The poetry of Vincent Zepp – a different take


Vincent Zepp – Arriving at the time in history (including literary history) when I did. I was blessed to have such a rich tradition of poetry, art, music, and culture to available to me.  This continues to allow my poetry to flourish in a rich loam of influences.  The work I believe is representative of the best thoughts and intuitions of my generation of writers whose challenge is to move forward with the gifts given to us from previous generation of artists. From Ferlinghetti who opened my eyes to Pound and Eliot through the various significant literary and art movements of the 20th century.  Then there was the haiku master Basho who showed us frogs leaping into the pond of our mind. John Berryman said our poetry should be something no one else could do.  I’ve tried to focus on that idea.

 

 

 

BEFORE I GO TO WORK TO WRITE ABOUT FASHION WEEK

 

i only slept with the fan on once

by accident

and maybe four hours more the rest of the season

never leching for the frottage of air conditioning

 

the liz claiborne slacks i got

at goodwill i only wore

when summer began bruxing

then back to black denim

 

along with past summers of cleavage

there was a cartography of legs

 

it’s the first day of autumn

I got up early enough that i only saw one

jogger and a poo bagger walking her dogs

by the time I got to walnut street

where no one was humping the pilate balls

at the fitness center

 

fall is the best season in Pittsburgh

then spring

emerging from the albumin of ice and snow

with gifts from the magi’s catalogue

 

speaking of which when I think of fall

i remember the waiter at akbars in amsterdam

who told me

I’ve seen a lot of people order the

chicken fall

but you are the only one who ever finished it

 

 

VON NEUMANS CATASTROPHE OF INFINITE REGRESS

 

prince takamatsu hirohitos brother
who

lobbied for peace
during world war II
said

to be beaten until
you can no longer
stand

is

stupidity

so i

lay down my arms
and

throw up my hands

where one cannot live
there

one should pass by

you are reported as missing in

action

in inuit

the word for making love
is

to make laughter together

you

are giving comfort and
aid to

the enemy

we do not have to take
sides

on order to take action

when ones friends
hate each other

how
can there be peace in

the world

that

excludes poets
because as wycherly explains

poets like whores are only

hated by each other

 

(and

somewhere in
japan

this morning
a man is

collapsing

from

karoshi)

its what the i ching
calls

the taming power of the small

but none of this is what i mean

im talking about
like

lucien sartie
and

christian david

and

you

are giving me spiritual zygodactylism

i met this irish singer
mark dignam

who wrote a song

about leaving anchorage
in

which he sings

you got to win me too

and you

madame roulin
didnt even try

at work one day

i was dialing the phone
number for

william blake

a message came on

the number is not in service
at this
time

 

my heart has beaten 1,851,645,017 times
along with
360,038,693 breaths

in her email
kajaani writes

maybe we’ll meet

on the exotic island of rnauritius
maybe go to a diner in alphabet city
see me in a park in rome
or

go skiing to the island of santa claus

lamas say life is
like

an illusion

my tea bag tag
said

something like

he hid his feelings
so

well

he lost them

 

 

 

THIS HAPPENS WHEN THE EXPERIENCES ARE MISTAKEN FOR ONES TRUE DESTINATION

 

i was wearing my denim jacket
with a

reproduction of van goghs
self portrait

on the back

on my way to the library

i walked past this woman
who saw the portrait

i heard her say

thats incredible

so i paused to let her have a
further look

thats incredible
it

looks exactly like kirk douglas

honey all the gods drink