Thursday, September 17, 2015

New Poetry by Joseph Reich

Getting through the daze

Recently been having this vision
of the whole Peanuts gang nodding
out on heroin, heads really hanging
perhaps around that poor crestfallen
Christmas tree where all the pine
needles have posthumously fallen
with the fizzling lights, droopy star
teetering on top, all messed-up around
the mound by that makeshift lemonade
psychiatrist stand, or that wall where Linus
and good ole Chuck Brown make their final
stand, bow their heads, grief-stricken, contemplative
and question, Socratic method, kind and compassionate
their existence, contented. watching days pass right
in front of them, and see both their perspectives, their
moods and behavior, then crash with elbows eternally
leaned-up, head in hand and earnestly, existentially
discuss dreams and goals, resolve conflicts and try
to figure out the futile, impossible problems of the
world, the pained and perplexing suffering soul
exchanging thoughts and ideas and future plans
right where the seasons change, but scene always
seems to remain the same, the trees and leaves
and tops of bleak twinkling roofs, steeples,
temples, mosques, mausoleums, streets
and lamplight sputtering with a pastel
sun falling, big bulge of breathtaking
moon rising, turning from day to evening
leaving simply those stray starlit stoops
with a whole wistful windswept village
swept up in blessed silhouetted geometric
forms and images of the sobering season
The hyperactive and psychotic and driven
Snoopy who I never  much cared for
his overconfident personality
Marcy and Peppermint Patty
finally finding each other
Pigpen misunderstood
Franklin the black
kid never taken in
Lucy the loud mouth
who just never shuts
the fuck up, but who
knows maybe I’m just
going through some sort
of mid-life crisis of sorts
most likely not and am just
trying to find ways to cope
and catch up on everything
I believe I missed out on
from a very complex
and competitive
and overwhelming
impossible Jewish culture
does that make sense at all?
And so thus maybe just prefer
seeing the whole Peanuts gang
strung-out on dope, not saying
a whole hell of a lot
a bunch of distant
disobedient dwarf
dope addicts
out of it
nodding out
to that brilliant
bee-bopping piano
and brush drums
of a mean and
moody magical
Vince Guaraldi solo
building up then fading
off in the background
all of them naturally
shuffling home
on their own
by their own
choice and
pace and
space and
time and
leisure in
a constant
state of flux
through the fading
glow and opaque
drizzly autumnal
leaf piles of some
divine dwindling
disappearing season.

- Joseph Reich 2015

Joseph Reich has been published in a wide variety of eclectic literary journals both here and abroad, been nominated five times for The Pushcart Prize, and his books in poetry and cultural studies include, "A Different  Sort Of Distance" (Skive Magazine Press) "If I Told You To Jump Off The Brooklyn Bridge" (Flutter Press) "Pain Diary: Working Methadone & The Life & Times Of The Man Sawed In Half" (Brick Road Poetry Press) "Drugstore Sushi" (Thunderclap Press) "The Derivation Of Cowboys & Indians" (Fomite Press) "The Housing Market: a comfortable place to jump off the end of the world" (Fomite Press) "The Hole That Runs Through Utopia" (Fomite Press)  "Taking The Fifth And Running With It: a psychological guide for the hard of hearing and blind" (Broadstone Books) "The Defense Mechanisms: your survival guide to the fragile mind" (Fomite Press)

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