Poetry: Selections from John Yamrus

it was 

freshman year 

at high school and the 

first real party i’d been invited to.

 

it was 

maybe 1966 

in someone’s basement 

 

and 

all i remember 

was the room was small and dark 

 

and 

some guy 

picked up a guitar 

and played “Wipeout” 

 

and 

the girls smiled 

and the guys were jealous 

 

and i 

felt as odd, 

uncomfortable and 

 

out 

of place 

as i still do now.

contrary

to

popular opinion,

 

the

internet

has ruined

poetry

for

 

the world.

 

it

has

fooled

 

way

too many people

 

into

thinking

they

can

do

 

this.

even

before

the hour sounds,

 

we

are already

 

sitting

with the dead.

i

 

made

the mistake

 

of 

complimenting him 

 

on 

his poetry.

 

on

the strength

 

of 

one poem,

he wanted me

to introduce him to

 

my 

publisher.

 

when 

i refused,

when i said

i’m sorry, but

i just don’t do that,

he went crazy on me.

 

instantly,

 

i 

went from

 

hit 

to shit.

 

more

than anything

he so desperately

 

wanted 

his fifteen minutes

 

of 

fame.

 

well...

here you go, buddy...

 

here 

you go.

i worked in a phone room once...

selling 

light bulbs

over the phone.

 

can you

imagine that?

 

god-damn light bulbs.

 

it 

was in

this little office

on the second floor

 

above 

a pool room,

 

with 

folding tables set up

with chairs and maybe 16 phones.

 

we each 

had a stack of sheets

with names of prospects.

 

i 

don’t know 

where they got the names 

 

or 

why, 

 

because 

it didn’t matter.

 

because 

no one ever bought the bulbs.

 

i 

don’t 

even remember 

 

how 

we were 

supposed to take an order 

 

and

all i did

was dial the phone,

 

make 

my pitch and

wait for them to hang up.

 

which they always did.

 

the job 

lasted maybe 

a couple of days

before i got tired of it

 

and 

stopped going.

 

the 

whole place

smelled of sweat 

 

and 

desperation

 

and 

a certain

kind of failure

you never can forget. 

Nelly Big Bang

loved poetry.

 

loved

Charley Parker.

 

loved 

funny hats,

 

old 

mirrors

 

and dogs.

 

Nelly Big Bang

 

loved

standing in

the sun as it shone

 

through

the window,

shining, bright 

and gold on the floor

of the asylum where he died.

it was

freshman year 

at high school and the 

first real party i’d been invited to.

 

it was 

maybe 1966 

in someone’s basement 

 

and 

all i remember 

was the room was small and dark 

 

and 

some guy 

picked up a guitar 

and played “Wipeout” 

 

and 

the girls smiled 

and the guys were jealous 

 

and i 

felt as odd, 

uncomfortable and 

 

out 

of place 

as i still do now.

John Yamrus’s career spans more than 50 years as a working writer. He has published 35 books (29 volumes of poetry, 2 novels, 3 volumes of non-fiction and a children’s book). He has also had nearly 3,000 poems published in magazines and anthologies around the world. A book of his selected poems was just released in Albania, translated into that language by Fadil Bajraj, who is best known for his translations of Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Bukowski, Ginsberg, Pound and others. A number of Yamrus’s books and poems are taught in college and university courses. His most recent books are Selected Poems: The Directors Cut (Concrete Mist Press) and Twenty Four Poems (Meat For Tea Press).