In honor of the first day of summer, here's some beer poetry! It's very California, but the mood of late rain and waiting seems just right now here in Oregon.
We have felt neurotic ourselves!
An excerpt from "Psychoanalysis: An Elegy" by Jack Spicer.
What are you thinking?(Heat wave article here.)
I think that I would like to write a poem that is slow as a summer
As slow getting started
As 4th of July somewhere around the middle of the second stanza
After a lot of unusual rain
California seems long in the summer.
I would like to write a poem as long as California
And as slow as a summer.
Do you get me, Doctor? It would have to be as slow
As the very tip of summer.
As slow as the summer seems
On a hot day drinking beer outside Riverside
Or standing in the middle of a white-hot road
Between Bakersfield and Hell
Waiting for Santa Claus.
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