chi. like in energy.

It was another great show at Tongue & Groove on Sunday. Conrad has done a remarkable job over the years creating and nurturing this literary venue. Hats off to him.

I was especially excited to read with Neil Aitken. I’d read his poetry before. He’s good.

And he didn’t disappoint. I appreciate how tight each poem was, worked without feeling overworked. And the last poem he read, about his father and the voice they shared, was hot!

Oh, and the singer – Maria Orieta. Stunning voice. Buy her CD!

Anyway, I read a set of older poems that I recently edited. This was the first time I’ve read the new versions. And I’m happy to say – I like them. I think the edits are very good.

So here’s one of the poems I read.

***

pig

one of my boys from the neighborhood,
who used to live with his senile father,
liked to kill stray dogs
that wandered into his yard.
each dog would take about two days to die,
but the last one, a brown pit,
no more than three months old,
that one lasted an extra day.
he’s now found an apartment he wants to
move into in culver city—
old building, wooden floors, checkered tiles
in the kitchen.
it’s rent control
but it’s currently occupied
so he’s just waiting for the sick old woman
who lives in that unit to kick it.
he’s got his little niece, who lives
in that same building with her mother,
updating him on whether woman’s dead yet.

lately, i’ve been dreaming
of a pig,
the same one,
over and over.
the pig’s not large.
the pig’s not drunk.
the pig is real.
i have it pinned down on the ground,
like a wrestler,
flipped over on its back.
my left hand on its chest
between the two short front legs
is holding it down in place.
the squeals sound like portuguese curses
and i’m good at pretending i’m deaf.
holding the pig steady,
i cut into its belly
with the old can opener i hold in my right hand,
making that up and down motion,
trying to cut a perfect circle of meat.

i see my neighbor across
vacuuming the floor around her kitchen.
she once told me,
when we were sitting drunk by the pool,
that when she was a little bitty thing
she was taken to parties at her church
where people stood in a circle in the basement
and sang hymns and lifted up their hands in praise,
and when the songs ended
she was traded, swapped for other kids,
as a man in a tie roamed the room
with a videocamera.

back to the pig.
i put the pig flesh into my mouth and bite
and it’s chewy.
my teeth can’t break through the surface.
i try to chew a couple of more times
and give up
because
it’s never the taste
that i wanted.