I don’t know if this qualifies as a prose poem, or just me rambling on. Anyway, I’ve just realised I did a Frank O’Hara poem for last year’s NPWM, I’ll have to check the day, it would be spooky if it was the same one. Six more to go is all:
Director of Security at Western Beef
There’s power in being a poet, first of all when you do a reading, you can dedicate poems to people, and that’s nice, it’s a baby power. The other thing you can do is put people into your poems, and that is a full-grown power, and yes it’s sweet to give people a little shout out because you like them or love them, but the best thing of all is to put randomers in there (randomers is a word from young people’s vocabulary that will be in the Oxford English Dictionary eventually). Transplanting a complete stranger into the world of your poem is a super-power. Unknown nobodies have as much right to be in poems as Sisyphus, Orpheus, Catallus, Odysseus, Perseus, and all the rest of the historics and mythsters. Who needs more poems with those guys in? Let’s celebrate the little people, and let’s do it without them knowing (that’s the best bit), and let’s imagine them finding out one day that they are in a poem, Oh my God, I’m in a poem! All of which leads me to today: I was doing the googling thing, the thing beloved of all of us, searching for Frank O’Hara, and you know what I stumbled upon, that’s probably not the best word for a virtual accident, I hit upon another Frank: meet Frank O’Hara, Director of Security at Western Beef. I can’t help thinking that wonderful Frank (the late but actual one) would have liked the title given to his namesake.