The Best American Poetry

Three Restaurant Poems (by Mitch Sisskind)

 

The Acorn On Oak

The hamburgers, giant meatballs

Was all they really were but for

ONE MILLION DOLLARS you got

It just EXACTLY like you wanted it

Or I sure as hell did! Oh, hell yes!

The guy asked me did I want

Another one and I said damn right

I want another one! HELL YES

I want another one and I have

Never looked back! Oh, hell no!

I asked the guy why it's called

The Acorn On Oak and he said

Because Oak Street and also how

God sees the end in the beginning,

He sees the TREE in the SEED!

Geh Kacken

 

Here's how to get a reservation 
At any restaurant you want --
Or not just a reservation but 
A table right away, the best one
In the house and if not then
They can GEH KACKEN!

You call them up and here's 
What you say -- 'Hello,
'I'm coming over, I like to eat
'And I'm not afraid to pay for it,
'So take care of me and if not 
'Then you can GEH KACKEN!'

Usually they will then ask for 
Your name which really makes
No difference so I might say
GEH KACKEN or I might say

YOU CAN CALL ME PISHER!

 

The Golden Ox

You and I, my love, so many nights 
Driving on Clybourne past the Golden Ox 
In the years I was with Phoenix Table Mat,
And later when I joined Quick Service Textiles 
At Walter Gips’ urging we still often spoke
Of the Golden Ox and planned to eat there
        But we never ate at the Golden Ox 
        And now we never will.

 

The Divine Comedy [by Mitch Sisskind]

 

Inferno

Oh for God's sake you don't

Have idea number one about

Basketball or horse racing,

You could never navigate

Your way around a wine list

And the many childish books

You've been reading about

Hieroglyphics will never get

You through an actual papyrus.

When will you emerge from

Your eggshell and realize that

The universe doesn't revolve

Around you, for God's sake?

Oh dear God! God in heaven!.

Purgatorio

Oh for God's sake! Oh dear Lord

Have mercy! Dear God on high!

Good God! Good Lord! Oh God!

Oh for God's sake! Let us pray!

Have mercy, Lord! Oh my God!

Praise him for his beneficence!

Oh for God's sake! Oh Lord!

Sing praises of God's name!

Oh my dear Lord and Master!

Who is like unto the Lord God?

Hosanna! Hosanna in the highest!

Oh for God's sake! Hallelujah!

Let us sing his praises! Oh God!

Hallelujah! Oh for the love of God!

Paradiso

I've been (is this the right word?)

An ignoramus. I revere Liszt but

Now I see his being irresistible

To a woman like Marie d'Agoult --

An exceptionally serious woman --

Derived from his own seriousness

Which, however, never expressed

Itself through anger or violence.

In recitals Liszt did sometimes

Physically wreck a piano and

In 1838 in Vienna he destroyed

Three pianos in one concert

But those pianos were in poor

Shape to begin with and Liszt's

Response was exasperation but

Not anger properly so-called.

Theophrastus (quoted by Seneca)

Proclaimed it impossible for

A good man to resist anger in

The presence of a bad man or

In evil circumstances but Seneca

Disagreed to the effect that

'Surely no one is more peaceful,

More free from passion, and

Less given over to hate than

A good man.' Consequently

Liszt was loved by women as

Was Berlioz also to an extent.

Amen. May it always be so.

 

 

Emily Dickinson 4 [by Mitch Sisskind]

Her final words? For years

She gave thought to them

But here was the difficulty:

Her reputed last murmurings

Would be far from final and

Quite the opposite in fact:

The words in the hidden box,

Those are her final and

Immortal words that won't

Or can't stop for death yet

Those words are still unborn,

Will quicken only when Vinnie

Discovers them and, baffled,

Proffers them to Susan --

So she will say nothing now,

Turning her face to the wall.

The silence is her last refusal.

The death is her next refraction.

 

* Two poetic phrasings have been described

as Emily's last words: "Called back" and

"I must go in, the fog is rising." But these

appeared as notes composed some time

before her passing. If there were any spoken

words, most likely to her sister Lavinia, no

one knows.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Emily Dickinson 3 [by Mitch Sisskind]

As a word-lover she loved gamahuche,
Gamahuching, will be (was) gamahuched,
Or in a sentence: The bee gamahuched

The flowers. She marveled at the bees
Entering daffodils enveloped by sunlight
Refracted through tender golden petals:
Surely Solomon in all his glory never 
Gamahuched like these and once at 
Great risk she allowed herself mentally
To gamahuche Susan as when the bee
Enters the flower or wantonly imagined 
Herself gamahuched by that stern Athena
Who lived just across the garden and who
Doubtless was gamahuched by Austin.  

Emily Dickinson 2 [by Mitch Sisskind]

Preoccupied by photography ever since

That absurd daguerreotype image of her

Appeared in 1847 she presents herself

Several times a week at the sidewalk

Booth of Amherst's tintype photographer

Always in one or another of her favorite 

Disguises though she has no illusions 

Mr. Deutsch is fooled. Fishwife, harlot,

Little Bo-Peep, Jane Eyre, Cleopatra,

And Joan of Arc are some of her many 

Incarnations until she convinces Deutsch

To teach her the process and transforms

Her room into a secret studio for creating

Hundreds of what we now call 'selfies.'

Emily Dickinson [by Mitch Sisskind]

Put aside the twaddle about her

Foisted upon us in ten thousand

Books and other tedious varieties.

Nights in green eyeshadow she

Panther-like prowled Amherst's

Back alleys her brain abuzz with

Webster's definition of volcano

As a hole or slit in the surface of

A mountain from which ejects

Smoke, flames, and the hot lava;

Of vampire as a demon of legend

Fabled to suck our blood at night;

And of hell: the place to which are

Carried all those that are caught.

Neighbor Smolarek (by Mitch Sisskind)

Each morning, the squirrels, how unregulated

They jump and play. I call the police department

To keep them away and also with the birds

It is exactly the same. What kinds of birds?

I don't know their names but they poop

Without the slightest consideration on my car

So that if I had a bb gun, ah, then I would have

Some real fun but meanwhile I call the 911

Number to complain about the birds and

What is the response I get? Silence on the line.

In other words, none. So I will be cremated

Lest on my grave squirrels disport themselves,

Birds poop, and even ants have a fine old time

Oblivious of the fact that the grave is mine.

 

 

 

Two Poems (by Mitch Sisskind)

 

Yeats/Koch

1. 

Eagerly I await my Yeats book -- that is,
The Collected Poems of W.B. Yeats 
Which I've ordered on Amazon from 
A Goodwill store in San Francisco. 

 

2.
Koch said, 'I want you all to write
An imitation of a poet you like but
I forbid you to imitate W.B. Yeats
And I'll flunk anyone who does.'

 

3. 
After Yeats' proposal of marriage
Was turned down by Maud Gonne
He proposed to her daughter Iseult
And I believe he was quite serious. 

 

4, 

On cold windy days Yeats liked 
To wrap himself in a rug and sit 

On the beach in a deck chair

Until dinnertime rolled around.

 

5. 

Beckett compared impotence to 
Putting a pillow in a pillow case
While Yeats said it was like trying
To put oysters in a vending machine.

6. 
After Yeats was rejected by Iseult
He married Georgie Hyde-Lees
Who was half his age and whose
Automatic writing fascinated him.

 

7. 
Koch admired Yeats' six-line poem
'A Deep-Sworn Vow' which made me
Wonder at the time and even now 
I wonder but in a quite different way.

 

8. 
Today a book arrived from Amazon 
Which was not Yeats' Collected Poems
But I still have the Bible and Koch said,
'It's not called the good book for nothing.'

 

 

 

Ungeverschmutzig

 

When we say something is ungeverschmutzig

We mean that it's dirty -- not morally dirty

Of which maybe you can imagine examples

But physically foul like one time a big lizard

Ran into my car when I left the door open

And it went under the dashboard and died

So you can imagine the rest or once in NYC

There was something ungeverschmutzig

And I cleaned it up because I knew that if

I didn't do it nobody else would! Schmutzig

Means normally or moderately dirty and

Verschmutzig means it is getting dirtier

And finally there is ungeverschmutzig

Which is so nauseating it's unbelievable.

 

A Dream of Cotton Mather [by Mitch Sisskind]

 

Flat on my back on the rusted chassis

Of an old car from which the driver's seat

Has been removed my foot is still able

To reach the gas pedal and I know my

Task will be to back the wreck up the 

Narrow inclined board upon which it now 

Rests worrisome though that is as I lack 

Confidence in the engine and also in my 

Ability to steer the chassis up the inclined 

Board while on my back and facing in the

Wrong direction. This takes place in the 

Cramped semi-darkness of some creepy

Hotel's rat-infested basement or coal chute

Whose walls are slick with a rancid humidity

And then as I hesitatingly step on the gas 

An attractive thirty-something woman attired

In a navy blue short-skirted business suit

Materializes out of nowhere and with a 

Wry smile observes my contraption starting 

To move, its engine grinding and whining

But actually doing better than I expected

Inching its way up the inclined board 

As the corporate woman glides along

Behind it until we reach the chute's crest

Beyond which I somehow intuit there lies

An entirely new and brightly lit reality. 

'Hey, nice get,' says the woman smiling

Broadly now as the last words of 

Cotton Mather suddenly come to me:

'Is this death? Why, I can do this!

'Death? Oh yes, yes, I can do this!' 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Perne in a Gyre [by Mitch Sisskind]

1.
Think about it for a minute and you'll see
How nothing is further in the past than 
Anything else. Either it's in the past or
It's not. Boom, bang. Case closed.

You may think the pyramids are far 

In the past but there's no such thing
As far in the past or close in the past,
There's only the past plain and simple
With no far or near so if somebody
Dies they get grandma on one side
And King Tut on the other side, 
All in the same boat so don't make it
More complicated than it has to be

Like a lot of people tend to do.

 

2.
What about the future? The future is

Like a swirling maelstrom or vortex
Of water where many outcomes are
Possible whereas the past is like
When the water has turned into ice
And you're stuck with it indefinitely.
Unlike the past some things are
Further in the future than others
But I admit I don't know exactly
How it works. Maybe the ice melts
And the past turns into the future 
Again so you can get another 
Chance at it like in karma or in
The movie "Groundhog Day." 

3.
I am not the smartest person 
In the world and anyway who is
The smartest person in the world?
I asked my mother that question 
In 1952 and she said Albert Einstein

Which might have been correct in  

1952 but everything is always in flux.
That is what A.N. Whitehead meant  

By process and reality or how when  

W.B. Yeats wrote perne in a gyre 
Nobody knew what he meant and 
We still don't know so its meaning
Is always in flux. Or what if we're all 

Inside some big computer game?

 

Two Poems (by Mitch Sisskind)

                      Die Verwandlung

So sick and tired of waking up

Every morning as myself again!

Oh let me awaken tomorrow as

Kafka's beetle struggling to open

His bedroom door which symbolizes

His heart though he is physically

And emotionally unable to open it

But he keeps on trying as I too

Would keep trying to empty the

Dishwasher which symbolizes how

I once checked my bank balance

Online and when I saw that $11,000

Had disappeared from my account

I kept checking it again and again.

 

 

               The Imperfect Enjoyment

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here's how I learned there's nothing left:
What once was a gift now seemed a theft
By that guy who looked like he had it it all
So I shoved him hard up against the wall
And said, 'You've read no poems in your life
'So your girlfriend here will be my wife.  
'Come on, honey,' I said, speaking to her
Like the alpha rooster which they prefer
And just like that we're on the 405
Heading north and I feel really alive
For a minute or so until I recognize 
By the alexandrite change in her eyes
That nothing is left, so now I know
About when to enter and when to go.

Big Daddy Lipscomb Three Sonnets (by Mitch Sisskind)

Big Daddy didn't play any college ball

The Marine Corps was pretty much all

The experience he had on defensive line

Till he joined the Rams and then signed

With the Colts in '56 drove to Baltimore

By himself except for picking up girls

In towns where they want to get out

Go to New York City or how about

Memphis instead or anywhere is fine

Nights by motel pools drinking wine

Big Daddy wonders if should he quit

Football before it starts with that shit

Two-a-day practices out in the sun

Which is work but girls are fun.

 

I asked Jesus for a moment of his time

We got together at the bottom of a mine

There I asked Jesus for a couple of bucks

He said ducks quack and chickens cluck

But Big Daddy Lipscomb feared no man

So be who you are to the best you can

Like Big Daddy Lipscomb always real mean

He called me Jesus and I called him Gene

When we drove together on unlit streets

To a boom-a-lay boom-a-lay old time beat

On the radio Big Daddy Lipscomb and me

Picking up chicks just being wild and free

Big Daddy Lipscomb always real mean

He called me Jesus and I called him Gene.

 

 

There goes Big Daddy tooling 'round the bend

He used to play for Baltimore I knew him when

Him and Artie Donovan drank before the games

Right there in the locker room with no shame

About it either and Big Daddy also loved his car

So they played in NYC and he drove it way too far

Than was even necessary to take the scenic route

Picking up girls in Delaware and other ones to boot

In Philadelphia simply by mentioning how his name

Was Daddy Lipscomb and nearly missed the game

But distinguished himself in a goal line stand and

As the final seconds ticked away he said hey man

To Artie Donovan you want to shoot horse with me

But Artie said go ahead I know what the end will be

 

 

The Four Noble Truths [by Mitch Sisskind]

 

Number One, in a nutshell: life is pain

And (Number Two) life's pain is caused

By desire; so if Old Smengie desires

A coffee date date with Paige Spiranac

(Google her) because It might possibly 

Lead to "something," then Old Smengie

Will feel pain and not just because he

Desired the "wrong thing" but because

He desired "anything" at all. Fortunately

(Number Three) there's a way out of

This predicament which is to follow

(Number Four) the Eightfold Path

Which says (once again, in a nutshell)

Do the "right thing." Problem solved!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Force Majeure (by Mitch Sisskind)

 

Professor Koch said, 'We know the story

'Where the guy wakes up and he's turned

'Into a bug, right? Now write a story where

'The guy turns into a beautiful woman.'

 

He was always talking about beautiful women.

Very well. Anomaly Englehardt spoke up,

A kid recognized as a universal genius who

In class always kept one hand over his mouth.

 

Anomaly Englehardt said, 'Concepts of ratio

'First appeared in ancient India as attempts

'To numerically express the ideal proportions of

'A beautiful woman's physiognomy, i.e. her face.'

 

Then Mar Knee spoke. Mar Knee always kept 

One eye closed and most often the left eye.

Mar Knee said, 'In The Book of the Courtier

'Castiglione imagines a conversation between 

 

'A man and two beautiful women but one more

'Beautiful than the other and Castiglione relates

'How the man flatters the more beautiful woman

'Without at all offending the less beautiful one.'

 

Then I spoke. 'Somewhere Byron remarks 

'That a boy should see only beautiful women

'Until he's twelve years old,' I blurted out. 

In those days I ordinarily stood on one foot.

 

'But what about when the boy turns thirteen?'

Inquired Anomaly Englehardt with his droll

Intonation to which Mar Knee responded,

'Then we must simply do the best we can.'

 

'Haha, mes élèves,' Professor Koch laughed,

'Class dismissed. Go out into the world and

'Good luck to you.' He had a slight stammer

Mostly on the letter G or on the letter M.

 

Later on College Walk I ran into a grad student

I knew slightly, an ardent Italian communist.  

A beautiful woman walked by and he sneered,

'Look at her. All she wants is a prick.'

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vastness, Immensity (by Mitch Sisskind)

1.

I want you to imagine a yacht the length 
Of three football fields filled with the top
Two hundred and fifty celebrities from 
The worlds of music, movies, sports,
Silicon Valley and Wall Street sailing 
Around the world for three weeks 
With gourmet food twenty-four hours
And nightly concerts in the auditorium 
Of the yacht that go on literally 
Until the next morning featuring 

Sam Blender, Cathy Lynn Doherty, 
Ed Froom, Jojo Greinke, and with 
Mary Drell and the whole thing 
Presided over by Henry Dreiben.

 

2.

There were days when I woke up
In the morning and said to myself
What am I doing here? I confessed
To Henry Dreiben that I felt sort of
Unworthy all the time but Henry was
Having none of it and he introduced
Me to Bud Wagner a top entertainment
Lawyer who remarked how if the boat
Sank it would be like the extinction of
The dinosaurs because imagine a boat
With actually everybody who is anybody
On it and then multiply it by a zillion,
Pete Krups, Liz Walitari, Bub Zebel,
Bess Turk, Pat Caine, Mel Brazelton.

3.

But now let's look at it in reverse.

Suppose instead of the boat sinking 
Everything except the boat sank
So the boat would be like Noah's Ark   

And whereas if it sank that would be 
A tragedy but if everything else 
Sank we could start over from scratch
Again with just the people on the boat 
Like the animals and Henry Dreiben
Like Noah. Do you know how much 
Money he has? I once asked him
What is the best thing about having
So much money and he said it was
Not having to stress about anything.

 

4. 
I feel like I can't put it into words. 
A huge yacht filled with celebrities,
The brainchild of Henry Dreiben,
A yacht full of famous musicians.
Do you see what I'm trying to 
Convey here? It's so frustrating.
Frank Catalano, Meg Deutsch, 

Also standup comics, animators, 

Lawyers all mingling around with 
Each other, Harley Blomquist,
Maureen Garber, I feel like 
I can see it in my mind but
If I write it I get so frustrated!
Elise Krodniki. Everybody!

 

NLP (by Mitch Sisskind)

When she started up on him he said

'Yo no soy un stupido.' He also said

'I'm not going to play monkey for y'all.'

It worked. She calmed right down.

This is how Neurolinguistic Programming

Teaches that there's only one right way

To do something so if you want to open

The window you don't unlock the door

Or make the bed or any such nonsense;

Same way when your old lady starts up

On you, you say 'Yo no soy un stupido,

'I'm not going to play monkey for y'all.'

Or if you want to shag a bird you say,

'Hey, you're looking good tonight.'

 

 

Fifty Years On: March 19, 2021 [by Mitch Sisskind]

 

I was in North Liberty with Old Man Bud,

Old to the point where he just sat there

Looking out the window of his house.

He asked me, 'What's the date today?'

I said, 'March 19.' He said, 'What year?'

I said, '1971.' 'Eighty years ago today,'

He said, 'I shot my first duck.' We were

Silent for some moments, each keeping

His own counsel and it was so quiet

That through the half-opened window

You could scarcely hear the whoosh of

An occasional car passing on the road

Or discern the wheeze and whoosh

Of Old Man Bud's uncertain breathing.

 

What peculiar impetus or inspiration

Led me then to speak to Old Man Bud

Concerning Robert Frost's celebrated

Poem entitled 'The Road Not Taken'?

This was a sort of frisson whereby

I found myself calling into question

The whole collective enterprise of

Metaphorically interpreting the poem

To embrace instead a determinedly

Bland reading in which a not-bright

Rustic simply reports on a shortcut

That saved him a few minutes getting

From where he was to where he went.

 

Then through the kitchen behind us

And passing into the front room

A bear-like man in his fifties appeared

Who I knew as Old Man Bud's son,

Willard was his name, a car mechanic

Serving North Liberty and the rest of

St. Joseph County. Albeit his father

Was well within earshot Willard said,

'There is a groundhog case for you

'If ever there was one. I've seen

'Too many of them, I've moistened

'Their lips, I've put a cold cloth on

'Their brow and I've felt their hands'

'Go all clammy at the very end.'

 

He continued, 'I'd rather keel over

'In the trees tomorrow, or in the

'Duck blind, or in the winter when

'Some of us like to go ice fishing.

'I have tried to be a good man.'

Tears welled up in his eyes and

I averted my gaze to spare him

Any embarrassment. Thus it was

Exactly fifty years ago today that

I amended my understanding

Not only of 'The Road Not Taken'

But equally of 'Stopping by Woods

On a Snowy Evening,' both poems

From the pen of Robert Frost.

 

 

"Nothing is as Boring as an Atheist" [by Mitch Sisskind]

Trapped on a long drive with an atheist
I closed my eyes and sought refuge in 
My earliest erotic fantasies of capture 
By an Apache warrior maiden, cruel
At first but then merely unpredictable.
As the atheist droned on the scent of
Formaldehyde characteristic of his
Persuasion suffused the vehicle and
Obligated me to explain this aroma 
To the warrior maiden who fiercely 
Demanded ‘What’s that awful smell?’
‘Formaldehyde,’ I answered and 
With a shrill war-whoop she bared
Her breasts and pounced on me.

from the archive; first posted November 2017

Only Death Wows Me [by Mitch Sisskind]

Only Death Wows Me

 

Hi, all. A couple of things. Only death wows me.

Mansions, big private yachts, I can appreciate

That stuff but it doesn't wow me. Not even birth,

Because first nothing is there, then something

Is there -- but once it's there it's like it's always

Been there, which doesn't wow me. With death

However something is there and then it isn't,

But in a weird way it's still there and maybe

Even more than before, like when you find

The dead person's false teeth lying around.

You know what else? Steve Jobs' last words

Were wow oh wow because he was so wowed

By the whole thing, which I can totally understand,

Because, as I mentioned, only death wows me.

 

Ed. note: "Only Death Wows Me" is a new poem and not included in the Collected Poems 2005-2020, about which you can read more here.

Four Poems [by Mitch Sisskind]

The Great Tweed

 

He was called the Great Tweed because

A Tweed was a perfectly attired student

And he was great at it so he was called

The Great Tweed. Once in a while men

From NYC advertising agencies would

Visit the university looking for models

And mostly they picked athletes but

When they saw the Great Tweed they

Put him in Esquire. Okay last night

Upon suddenly awakening I flashed

A so-vivid image of the Great Tweed

Circa 1965 in the elevator of our

Embarrassingly rundown Columbia

Dormitory and I even remembered

The Great Tweed's name although

I had never spoken to him which

Caused me to wonder if perhaps he

He had died at that moment but

When I Googled him I learned he's

A retired brain surgeon in Florida.

My takeaway? Though starlings fly

By night in their sidereal thousands

Their murmuration is a single voice.

 

 

At the Valvoline Place

 

At the Valvoline oil changing place

I introduce myself as the oldest man

In the world and I ask the young man

What is the most miles he has seen

On a car here at the Valvoline place.

He says about four hundred thousand

But I scoff at that and say how my car

Already has two hundred twenty-five

Thousand and it will easily make

Four hundred thousand except I might

Not be there to see it in as much as

I'm already the oldest man in the

World and he asks how old are you

And I say I am two million and ten.

 

 

Smolarek

 

Smolarek. You know that name.

When Smolarek said swimming

Gets the crud out of your pores

You listened and listened good.

Same way as when Smolarek

Went to jail and when he got out

He said it was like Barnum & Bailey

In there. Why was Smolarek in jail?

He was talking to the female police

Officer whereupon the male officer

Horned in. What did Smolarek do?

Same as you would have done!

Exact same thing as Smolarek did

Is what you would have done too!

 

 

Hurricane

 

Now is this what you expected?

Mist or a fog-like moisture lasting

An hour or so and then creepily

Gaining intensity without you even

Registering it until a steady rain

Falls in the suspiciously still air.

 

I say 'suspiciously' because the

Stillness is in fact an unstable

Equilibrium that slowly and then

Suddenly explodes into a monster

Simulacrum of itself as though

In some demonic funhouse mirror.

 

I say 'demonic' because of your

Tendency to anthropomorphize

A meteorological phenomenon

Into some divine judgment now

Sternly rendered on all your

Boneheaded financial blunders

 

And your dread of making a

Fool of yourself in the bedroom,

The boardroom, the bathroom,

The barnyard, the beauty shop,

The battlefield, or behind the

The wheel of your automobile

 

And when the hurricane blows

All of that away you will go

Oh wow. You will go oh wow

Again and again. You will just

Keep going oh wow, oh wow,

Over and over, just oh wow.

 

Ed. note: Click here for Sisskind's interview with Michael Silverblatt, host of "Bookworm."
https://www.kcrw.com/culture/shows/bookworm/mitch-sisskind-collected-poems-2005-2020

The Many Faces of "Oy!" [by Mitch Sisskind]

"Oy" is one of the greatest words in any language and I've noticed that people of all backgrounds quickly pick it up and start using it. Let's take a look at some situations in which saying "Oy" is very appropriate (click on thumbnail for full-sized image): 

• 
• 
• 
•