NaPoWriMo PROMPT: is a “New York School” poem using the recipe found here. The New York School is the name by which a group of poets that all lived in New York in the 1950s and 1960s. The most well-known members are Frank O’Hara, John Ashbery, and Kenneth Koch. Their poems are actually very different from one another, but many “New York School” poems display a sort of conversational tone, references to friends and to places in and around New York, humor, inclusion of pop culture, and a sense of the importance of art (visual, poetic, and otherwise). Here’s a fairly representative example.
In following the recipe, you can include as many (or as few) of the listed elements as you wish. Happy writing!
Northwest School Poem Today on April 21, 2014
I forget how many years we gather
at my dining table highly polished with Enddust
on Mondays we sit, the five of us and write
for the past six or seven years
except now Pam is off to Barcelona
so sometimes it is four or three of us.
Where is Anny going? Anny with a “y”
because it really is the “y” meaning “and”
In Spanish and I mistook it in her email
Zee the four pound Papillon barks
when they arrive, not ringing the bell
and we will all forget for a moment
who has cancer and who doesn’t
and I’ll turn off the new age music
because Pam likes silence even
though she won’t be here we know
bodies still are smothered beneath the oso
landslide and grief lies in all our hearts
but not only because Gabriel Garcia Marques
died or we can’t geta starbucks
the orange marmalade monster
will gallop across our written pages and even
Barbara will tolerate his insistent presence
for who but a cat can make us smile rather
than yell? The Bellingham Herald rests unopened
for me to know the local disasters
because someone else jumped at Whatcom Falls
and was injured last week. Linda will talk
of Passover and I will warn of the play
Women of Lockerbee I saw yesterday
Don’t you fuckin’ wanna ticket to Lady Gaga?
I need a cup of Wood’s Coffee chai.
Mercury rests silent at the bottom
of Bellinham Bay and a Cardinal Grand Cross
hangs in the heavens.
C.J. Prince ©2014