Le Grande Fromage -- collage by douglas brent smith
any other night
flecked with flashes
small surprises
notes bouncing: balloons
circus light swoons
balloons off the wall
pop pop squeak and
pop balls (mostly
red) sticking to you
companions in your
dance
floating into the hundred
watt bulb and bursting
pop! pieces fall at
your feet flightless
balloons.
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NOTES:
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Andy Laties and his sister, during his Child's Play days |
My friend Andy Laties, author, bookseller, and musician extraordinaire, when he performed with me in Child's Play had an interesting practice of carrying black balloons in his pocket. He said that they were weather balloons because black is easier to see in the sky.
Andy carried these balloons and would randomly offer one to someone he'd just met. He'd pull it from his pocket, inflate it fast (a wind-instrument musician he has excellent breath control) and hand it to the stranger who would now be his friend. No conditions and no expectations, just a free black balloon.
Charming.
That has nothing to do with this poem, but mentioning balloons always reminds me of Andy.
Oh, and yes, you really should read Andy's books.
Book and Puppet Company: https://bookandpuppet.com/
Rebel Bookseller: https://bookandpuppet.com/item/JfyTu211AvS6DUwZrcr2Nw
Son of Rebel Bookseller: https://bookandpuppet.com/item/-xqxnISJ0wDCLnFHuj17yw
The Music Thief: https://bookandpuppet.com/item/QZ_xa5QNxDYVQiJrwkATPg
Living Ur Sonata: on Google books here.
A more recent photo of Andy
pouring out along
the edge
squandered supplies
piled used and high
gaping pits
spent expectations
lost looming loops
of pride booming
need, aside
one generation's
dream passed
to the next
dented bent unrelenting
doom brittle cellophane
crisply cold outside
molded within
contents spoiled
one way of living
shot full of holes
an empty sieve
while the work
flows thru turns
bleeding weeping
slow burns.