The Best American Poetry

Before Kennedy (by Mitch Sisskind)

Each Saturday Lou's four hour pinochle
Game now in its thirtieth-first year,
Pinochle again on Monday nights
And on Fridays the family card games,
Men and women at separate tables.

To the downtown public library
I bore my briefcase after school
In Eisenhower’s last years to read
Old newspapers: WAR the full page
Headline of 1917 and again in 1941.

Here and there bent over tables
In the gloomy main reading room
Men wiping their eyes, coughing,
Blowing their noses until limping
Urgently to the awful bathroom.

These men, were they younger
Than Lou I found myself asking.
I saw his steps shortening until
He died like the silver dot on the
Turned-off television screen.

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): 

• 
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Two Poems [by Mitch Sisskind]

 

 

Schmegeges

Schmegeges everywhere. Look over yonder
Where schmegeges march down the street,
See how the schmegeges cavort themselves
Day and night, how new schmegege variations
Appear, marching, marching, tailgating me,
Telephoning me, telling me what they think,
Singing schmegege roundelays, drinking,
Dancing, eating what the schmegeges eat,
Dressing like schmegeges, raising children
As schmegeges, questioning how schmegege
Has traditionally been understood, redefining
Schmegege, and always marching, marching,
Marching, I did not think there were so many
Schmegeges and now I too begin to march.

Mister Yes and No

I called him Mister Yes and No because

When you asked him a question he always

Said yes and no. For example, if you asked

Him if today is Friday he said yes and no or

Even if you asked him if one plus one is two

He said yes and no to my great puzzlement.

Much later it dawned on me that maybe

He was making a distinction between a

Literal interpretation of the matter at hand

And a metaphorical perspective like when

John Ashbery wrote it had been raining

But it had not been raining, in 1956.

Or maybe John Ashbery was making

A distinction between objective and

Subjective realities like it was raining

Outside when he wrote his poem but

But it was a clear day in the subjective

Landscape of his poem, entitled "A Boy."

When I ran this by Mister Yes and No

He said, 'Well, maybe" which had me

Flummoxed coming from the man who

Only said yes and no and seeing my look

Of incredulity he added, 'Or maybe not.'

Haha in life there is always more to learn!

Three Poems [by Mitch Sisskind]

The Girls Began Speaking Pig Latin

When the girls began speaking Pig Latin

On the school bus I saw the pleasure

Women discover in a secret language

And more importantly I understood how

Learning Pig Latin could be a shibboleth

Opening the door to love! Yes, love,

Whereas sex such as it was existed

Only as the Playboy pictures furtively

Hidden under a mattress until one day

Torn up and flushed down the toilet for

The awful shame of it. Ethay answeryay

Asway igpay atinlay andyay ohyay odgay

Iyay iedtray. Oh God, I've tried but I failed,

Andyay isyay ityay ownay ootay atelay?

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_eWlAkAJUOc&fbclid=IwAR2ObTAEZ-03EkhT8d9xX9Ak76EPR3sVNFcvXorJlHmrGLrHxEZ45rWvvMs

 

 

F. Compton R. Buzzard

 

Apropos my field of ancient Egypt

I refer to her as Queen Nefertari or

Mut The Sky Goddess in my texts

When the colloquium brings me

Down to New Haven each week

And she replies with her cutesy Bear

Moniker as in Missing You Now Bear,

Loving You Bear, Lonely Tonight Bear,

Or Horny & Bare Bear which gives me

A laugh but oh my goodness we have

Such a paucity of common ground:

That is to say, I more or less inhabit

The 19th Dynasty while she is purely

This lively and delightful quotidian girl.

Sigh! Recently she has downloaded

Hieroglyphs for Complete Beginners

From Amazon -- but for goodness' sake

That will never get her through a papyrus.

 

 

 

Helen of Starbucks

Hi everybody! Let's look at that scene in

The Iliad where some old Trojan warriors

Passing time on the city wall gaze upon

Helen, the world's most beautiful woman.

She won't even give them the time of day

And the old war horses wax philosophical

Because what the hell else can they do?

Goddamn it, if you get past the age of 75

Or 80 it's like you don't even exist anymore

In the eyes of the young gal serving coffee

At Starbucks so when you tell her you knew

Milton Berle it's like speaking Chinese!

God forbid you mention the names of

Ben Blue or Slapsie Maxie Rosenbloom!

 

"Not exactly easy and it shouldn’t be": Aspen Matis in Conversation with Mitch Sisskind

Photo © Alex Pieros.

What is poetry’s greatest role in your inner life? Why do you write poems?

Often when people have some ability or inclination, they become aware of that or others might point it out to them. Then they’re well-advised to develop that ability. If you’re seven feet tall, try playing basketball. Unfortunately, there can be blocks against it. You might refuse to play basketball for the very reason that you’re seven feet tall. But if you’re a certain kind of person—let’s call it a creative person—and you don’t act upon that fact, there can be problems. In “Madmen” someone says of the main character, “This is what happens to an artistic personality who isn’t an artist.” So I have to give it a shot.
 
Are there any reliable critics? If so, who, and why is his/her perspective useful? If no, why not? What happens when poetry is critiqued? What is gained? What is lost in translation? 

When I was in middle school the girls learned to speak Pig Latin. They liked speaking it fast to each other, both for its own sake and because the boys couldn’t do that or understand it. As I remain a “boy” after all these years, much of academic criticism is like Pig Latin to me. Meanwhile, Auden wrote that negative criticism always turns into showing off, so it's best to skip it as a writer or as a reader. Sometimes wonderful critical insights appear spontaneously. My professor Angus Fletcher once casually remarked, “Freud is such a great writer. He can make you believe anything.” Negative and positive at the same time!

What themes and inquiries most fascinate and inspire you?

I have a few inspiring alter egos that can help me write. One of them is the “peckerwood”—a sort of backwoods man in the modern world who breeds dogs. But he's not a Trump person. He’s deeply apolitical and anti-materialist. He likes it when his car breaks down. He would see Trump as soft, materialistic, and frightened of dogs. Perhaps surprisingly, V.S. Naipaul shows real understanding of peckerwoods in his book on the American South. Other alter egos are the Torah scholar, the sorority girl of the 1950s, and the Chicago policeman. Maybe a common theme would be people who have passionate, unconventional interests that they desperately want to communicate, and they assume that the reader shares their interests. I identify with these people. I don't have to “get inside” them. They’re inside me.

Your new book of poems, Collected Poems, is rich with moments of delightful surprise, sudden twists beyond the mundane moment and into themes that feel vast and universal. How do you achieve this element of freshness? Was this volume’s unifying quality of surprise a conscious choice?

I like characters and voices that are hard to identify as either mundane or transcendent. If I can create that indeterminacy, whether in a short poem or in a whole book, I hope it brings the surprise and freshness you refer to. On the other hand, some readers find this unpleasantly confusing. I’ve gotten both of those responses to my writing and also in other areas of my life.

Do you have any wisdom or guidance you’d like to share with young poets?

Kenneth Koch said that a poet is interested in the word “ashtray” while a prose writer is interested in all the people who have used the ashtray. Poets young and old should to be sensitive to words or phrases that catch their interest, that strike a spark, however slight. See what you can make of that. I recently came across the phrase “make cow eyes,” meaning to flirt, and I was able to write a poem from that starting point. Stuff like this can happen in wondrous ways. You may know that Lewis Carroll thought of the last line of his long poem “The Hunting of the Snark”—“For the snark was a boojum, you see”—before he wrote anything else.

What are you working on now? What creative pursuits most excite you?
I’ve done lots of ghostwriting with publishers large and small. After that experience, in my own work I’m much more comfortable with self-publishing. I don’t like soliciting people to take an interest in my writing and the snail’s pace of the whole thing can also be demoralizing. I’m getting ready to do a new book of poems that I want to call “Bringing in the Sheaves.” I like not having to consult with a publisher about the title or about the cover. I hope people like my work, but I want to have full responsibility, whether it succeeds or not. I find writing easier now than at earlier points in my life. That is certainly exciting, although it’s still not exactly easy and it shouldn’t be. As Emily Dickinson stated, it’s “all we know of heaven and all we need of hell.” Surf and turf. Nothing better than that.

Click here to listen to Mitch Sisskind on WKCR's "Bookworm" with Michael Silverblatt, click here to read Mitch's blog posts. Order Sisskind's Collected Poems here. 

Aspen Matis is the author of Your Blue Is Not My Blue: A Missing Person Memoir (Little A, June 2020). Called “fearless…A beautifully written story of inspiration, courage, and ultimate transformation” by Booklist, the book was a #1 Amazon bestseller in memoirs. Author Deepak Chopra said the memoir “will open the door to empathy, compassion, and healing.” Novelist Aimee Bender called Your Blue Is Not My Blue “gorgeous…a gripping read that wrestles honestly and sensitively with the ways we connect and the ways we miss one another.”

Matis's short-form writing has been published in The New York Times, The Atlantic, Tin House, Psychology Today, Salon, Bloomberg, and Marie Claire. Her first book, the critically acclaimed memoir Girl in the Woods, was published by HarperCollins in 2015. Called “a powerful read” by O, The Oprah Magazine, the book made The Guardian's annual top 50 list. The New York Times named Matis “a hero.”

Inviting a Friend to Supper (by Mitch Sisskind)

 

Of Wittgenstein here’s all I know and

All you need to know, my dear friend:

‘I don’t care what I eat as long as it’s

‘The same thing every day.’ Genau!

Thus spake the great philosopher!

So don’t expect Cornish game hen

Chez moi. I was raised on Swanson’s

Chicken pot pies and the only change

Now is we’ll have the Stauffers brand

Plus an enormous orange Jell-o mold

Which in the days my youth signified

Gemütlichkeit, as the great philosopher

Might say. Dessert will be fig newtons

And I’ll ask you to please bring the wine.

 

 

 

Three Poems (by Mitch Sisskind)

The Old Pogue

The Old Pogue said, ‘Class with just a touch of

‘Wicked sleaze, or more than a touch, right, boys?

‘Admit it. Class plus wicked sleaze is what we want

‘In women. Oh, I wish I was born in ancient Egypt

‘When the gals painted their cheeks a shade of

‘Yellowish red and wore a green eye shadow

‘Made from malachite, a copper derivative, and

‘Kohl, a charcoal-like eyeliner favored by women

'Of the aristocracy. During the 18th Dynasty

‘Queen Hatshepsut herself ground frankincense

‘Into her eyeliner and in the Minoan civilization

‘Around 2000 BC in the Aegean Islands servant girls

‘Wore short jumpers hanging loose from the shoulders

‘To the knees with no belt that yelled out to fuck me.’

 

I Got Nowhere

In the whole world only one restaurant

Was patronized by both Leon Trotsky

And Bela Bartok. That would be the

Old 57th Street Automat in Manhattan.

Go into any restaurant today and ask

Whether Leon Trotsky ever ate there.

You'll get nowhere. Same with Bartok.

You'll get nowhere. They'll shoot you

A look of stupifaction. Apropos of which,

Years ago I took the subway down to a

Greek-run coffee shop on 86th Street

Where I'd heard Isaac Singer used to

Order a boiled potato. I got nowhere.

I asked if Bartok ate there. Who? What?

Charlie Livingston: A Novel

 

He went into the jewelry business.

He left the jewelry business and

Went into the rug business. He left

The rug business and went into

The landscaping business. He left

The landscaping business and went

Into the ladies' ready-to-wear

Business. He left the ladies' ready-to-

Wear business and went into the

Plumbing business. He left the plumbing

Business and went into the pet grooming

Business. He left the pet grooming business

And went into the car detailing business.

He left the car detailing business and went

Into the shoe business. He left the shoe

Business and went into the children's

Furniture business. He left the children's

Furniture business and went into the hair

Replacement business. He left the hair

Replacement business and went into the

Leather goods business. He left the leather

Goods business and went into the heating

And air conditioning business. He left the

Heating and air conditioning business and

Went into the printing business. He left the

Printing business and went into the exterminating

Business. He left the exterminating business

And went into the meat packing business.

He left the meat packing business and went

Into the organic vegetable business. He left

The organic vegetable business and went

Into the funeral home business. He left the

Funeral home business and went into

The bicycle shop business. He left the

The bicycle shop business and went into

The reinsurance business. He left the

Reinsurance business and went into the

Cow-and-calf business. He left the cow-and-

Calf business and went into the yarn business.

He left the yarn business and went into the

Deep sea fishing business. He left the deep

Sea fishing business and went into the beer

Distributorship business. He left the beer

Distributorship business and went into the

Made-to-order men's shirt business. He

Left the made-to-order men's shirt business

And went into the tropical fish business.

He left the tropical fish business and went

Into the cell phone repair business. He left

The cell phone repair and went into the

Waste removal business. He left the waste

Removal business and went into the private

Investigator business. He left the private

Investigator business and went into the picture

Framing business. He left the picture framing

Business and went into the jewelry business.

 

 

 

 

 

"That's What I Thought" [by Mitch Sisskind]

Everybody has a tragic story
And I have one of those too. 
Would you like to hear it 
For a couple of hours on an 
Economy class flight to LA?
Haha that’s what I thought!

Or let’s talk about money.
Just by looking at people
It’s hard to tell how much
Money they have. Do you 
Think I have a lot of money? 
Haha that’s what I thought!

Or let’s talk about sex.
Just by looking at people
It’s hard to tell how much 
Sex they’re getting. Do you 
Think I’m getting a lot of sex?
Haha that’s what I thought!

Or let’s talk about death.
Just looking at people
It’s hard to tell whether
They’re dead or alive but
If you wait long enough 
You’ll be right eventually

The way a stopped clock
Is right twice a day or blind
Pigs find truffles. Do you
Think I’m alive or am I dead?
Haha that’s what I thought!
But haha what about now?

Mitch Sisskind's "Collected Poems 2005-2020" was published by Burrow Books in 2020.

The Great Hippopotamus (by Mitch Sisskind)

 

Danny was a unique character having been

The youngest prisoner in San Quentin for

A period of time during his overall 25 years

Of incarceration in Q and in other California

Institutions of higher learning plus time

In the old federal lockup in Marion Illinois.

When I asked Danny how he felt when they

Welded him into his cell he laughed and said

That although he couldn't get out they couldn't

Get in either so you could say it was neither

Fish nor fowl. That's the way he always was,

Cool as a cucumber with a smile on his face.

One day however Danny seemed a bit out of

Sorts so I asked what the matter might be.

He said, 'I was in my car on La Brea Avenue

'When a good looking girl pulled up beside me

'And said I should pull over to the curb because

'She wanted to talk to me so I did as she said.'

He continued, 'When I pulled over to the curb

'She said her car was falling apart and she

'Asked me to rent a car for her since she didn't

'Have any credit cards or even a driver's license.

'I rented a car for her but then she didn't bring

'The car back, she just kept driving around in it.'

He went on, 'When I was notified of the problem

'By the rent-a-car company I went looking for her

'And when I found her I said hey you didn't bring

'The car back and now they are charging me

'Fifty dollars a day or whatever it is plus the car

'Is on my insurance so what if you cracked it up?'

As he went on I noticed a small scar on his nose

And tempting though it was to ask after its origin

I thought better of it. Now here is the funny part.

The next day I was accidentally whacked on the

Nose by a fellow opening the door to Starbucks

And the upshot was I got a scar just like Danny's.

What are the odds of getting whacked on the nose

So soon after seeing a scar on the nose of another?

Einstein wrote, 'Die Quantenmechanik ist achtung-

Gebietend aber eine innere Stimme sagt mir dass

Der Alte nicht würfelt.' Very well! But instead of

The Old One I speak of the Great Hippopotamus.

 

 

 

Three Poems [by Mitch Sisskind]

 

The Wandering Jew

1.

In the Gremlin he drove Chicago to NYC

And back again I-90 segueing into I-80

Outside Cleveland but neither Chicago

Nor NYC could be called his destination

Considering how upon arrival in one city

He turned back towards the other without

So much as getting out of the Gremlin.

For money he had a small inheritance

Plus some government disability payments

That he accessed at the ATM machines

In gas stations or in the motels where

He stayed every third or fourth night

But definitely at least one night per week

And he paid little attention to his meals.

2.

After months or years of Chicago/NYC

He began crisscrossing the country with

No particular rhyme or reason while in

His brain mentations came and went like

The fireflies that flitted in the gloaming

After long-ago picnics at Potawatomi Park.

However as winter came upon the Interstates

A more apt metaphor of his thoughts was

Snowflakes blown by winds like the one that

In a blizzard near King of Prussia Pennsylvania

Sent the Gremlin spinning on an overpass and

Plunging through the side rail as an apparition

Of the man he could have been appeared.

3.

This was the the man he could have been

Had he not had spent his life in the Gremlin,

The law school or medical school graduate,

Husband and father, grandparent, homework

Helper, dumb joke teller, dryer of tears, loving

And loved in return, and he wept at seeing

The man he could have been except in the

Last second or even in the final nanosecond

Of his wasted existence an amazing joy filled

His heart as the man he could have been

Disappeared and in that man's place he saw

A shining and spectacular vision of the man

He was irrevocably destined to be when the day

Of גְּאֻלָּה and מָשִׁיחַ at long last arrives! Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

New Tires

 

Eventually I saw how beautiful women are

Stimulated by new tires on a man's car and

Ever since that realization dawned on me

I buy new tires whenever the possibility of

Liaison with a beautiful woman presents itself.

Isn't that awfully expensive? Yes and no.

Generally I pay around five hundred dollars

For four tires which is nothing to sneeze at

But look at it this way: beautiful women are

Nature's true masterpieces so if they want

New tires, well then, new tires they shall have.

As to why they want new tires, I have no idea

But many things in science remain unknown.

How aspirin works was a mystery until 1994.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Meat Loaf

 

He had been watching Meat Loaf videos

Or rather he watched the same video

Again and again, the performance of

Paradise by the Dashboard Light from

1979 or 1980 which was Meat Loaf's

Masterpiece and had received over

Forty-five million YouTube views and

Eleven thousand admiring comments

Since it first appeared on YouTube

Four years earlier. The very existence

Of the millions of Meat Loaf admirers

Reassured him like a quote from Seneca:

'Whatever time has passed is owned

'By death. Most of death is already gone.'

 

 

 

Meat Loaf [by Mitch Sisskind]

 

He had been watching Meat Loaf videos

Or rather he watched the same video 

Again and again, the performance of

Paradise by the Dashboard Light from 

1979 or 1980 which was Meat Loaf's 

Masterpiece and had received over

Forty-five million YouTube views and 

Eleven thousand admiring comments 

Since it first appeared on YouTube

Four years earlier. The very existence

Of the millions of Meat Loaf admirers 

Reassured him like a quote from Seneca:

'Whatever time has passed is owned

'By death. Most of death is already gone.'

Veteran's Day (a poem for Mitch Sisskind) [by David Lehman]

On Veterans' Day let us remember the fallen, and honor them.
It used to be Armistice Day.
Now it is a three-day weekend, if that.
As King David would have said: How the mighty have fallen.

But some things don't change even as all the fashions do
so the old feel older in an orgy of planned obsolescence.
I wondered: Who will inspire them to do the great things
the Alte Kockers of the past revealed in prophecies?

So I went to Mitch, my old friend, thinking: if anyone knows,
he does, and he told me a very simple solution he had
for the problem of inspiration, which Freud would have called
the problem of anxiety. "When you need inspiration,"

Mitch said, "there's no need to look any further than
Orson Welles' classic commercials for Paul Masson wine.
Many of them can be seen on You-Tube. I saw a nice one
the other day. I just wish it went on longer."

"Virginity" [by Mitch Sisskind]

They called him Tight Pants Blair and he 
Favored an eccentric notion of time derived
From A.N. Whitehead's Process and Reality.
In a nutshell, Tight Pants Blair proposed that
The past does exist but with a certain flatness
So that nothing in the past is farther back or 
Deeper in the past than anything else. Thus, 
Our "distance" from the Egyptian pharaohs
Is the same as our "distance" from yesterday's
Hamburger or anything else in the past that
You care to name. For example, when did you 
Lose your virginity? Tight Pants Blair would
Argue that the meaningful question would be
Not when, but simply did you lose it or not?