Sunday, March 1, 2009
Love Poems For Robert Mitchum
Addendum: When I say copious amounts of B12, I mean 2 tablets, morning and after dinner. I'm actually quite amazed, though, at how much of a difference this makes, I just started taking them on Thursday. That said, I have crossed over from my Bobby the Mitch blog (you know, the one nobody comments on, because I only post photos), after finding this wonderful e-book titled above. I have added two of the poems for your perusal. Please note that this is not me writing under a psuedonym. Seriously. Because my Mitchum would be fighting werewolves on Saturn's rings. With Beowulf.
He Tries to Make Mitchum Jealous
I scribble an "Ode for John Payne's Chin" --
the deepest cleft in Hollywood.
Carmen Miranda crushes grapes there.
Sonja Heine stops smiling (and skating)
to melt a Swiss icicle, a fat one with
ice warts. Cal Edison tapes Christmas lights
on either side, to go on and off alternately.
Betty Grable jams a patch of her thigh skin
into the fold. Payne's so hot the skin sizzles.
Balsa Wood Mitchum
Transferred to balsa wood
trimmed and glued to a stand,
Mitchum greets me,
Through a remote tape deck
he delivers lines from his movies.
A chrome ashtray overflows with butts
evoking a seedy private dick.
Leaving Mitchum home alone is difficult.
Eventually, when the sun leaches him,
with sumptuous grief-ridden ceremonies
punctuated by smiting on copper pans,
I'll bury him beneath an orange tree.