those ships that never sailed
Today I bring them back
And let them sail / Forever
poetry is in the making. And just like the possibility of life based
on silicon, it's here to stay. But before everyone can congratulate
New Orleans on becoming the new center of the universe for the Imaginary,
let me mention a few things.
of all, unlike its spiritual neighbor and counterpart, Catholicism,
there was no virgin birth or immaculate conception. The Imaginary
has many suitors. Nor are we at pains to demonstrate otherwise,
i.e. "Jesus" begets "Hey Zeus." You see, when one is imaginary,
one may well suffer from insomnia, but hardly from sleeplessness.
Or that is to say, those who cannot remember the future are condemned
to repeat it.
looking back through the looking-glass at the twentieth century
and all its impossible hells is no longer meaningful. It's merely
sentimental (much like Ike & Tina or dead Eva Peron moaning inverted
teardrops). Throw yourself a bone for chrissakes! Sing your mind
into skew! Let's have fun at everything: Cotillion Balls! Ancestral
Compost! Strobe-a-phobia! Menu Pounding Spoons! It's such easy feet
and more in the world than shipwrecked bath toes! Not to mention
being adult is like having a bad trip, and therefore, a not-so-complicated
so, as Poet Bernadette Mayer points out, for "merger" and "acquisition"
types. Indeed, revisionist experts have bankrolled our idea of "The
Land of the Free" into "America the Inimical!" It's a sinister three
stooges orgy of what Lewis, Clark & Co. would have found if they
were born tomorrow.
as was prophesied by Poet Ted Berrigan: "Baffling combustions are
everywhere downriver." This whorling primordial goo consists of
creosote tomatoes, busted concrete, and palmetto bugs (that souvenir
of Native Night and Big Muddy), and is belching up from fleshpots
even as I write. In fact, this summer, at a secret location in the
Undercity, and incubating at record-high temperatures, two secret
brains gave birth to a many-headed pigeon. This fantastic creature
will serve as mascot for all said "Imaginary" endeavors. It's function
is to induce people into a good nap, and hereafter, pardon the soul
like a broken church bell on Sunday afternoons.
yourself for psychological impact. This is a Poetry of Collisions,
a Language Crystal of sorts, where all hours and futures float your
head by the ankles and spin your mind into suspended animation orbit.
Yes, this highly unhypothetical event is imminent! On September
25th, in the year of the triple zero, "The
New Orleans School for the Imagination" begins its inaugural
season. Presiding Emeritus Professor of Abomination, Andrei Codrescu,
is its bi-spiritual founder.
while his or my genius can't be helped, help yourself. Greet the
day with wide drowsy yawns! Whisper with all tender rage your one
great calm! Tie snake rattles to the ends of your long black braids
and mercilessly compose Imaginary Poetry! The corsets of happiness
are begging to be opened!
New Orleans, 30.viii.2000