Tuesday, 5 April 2011

Love Poem for Scott Walker

My tongue is not cheesecloth
enough to strain your syllables,
Scott Walker. This is your love poem.

Every Louisville slugger is a reproduction,
as Baudrillard would have said, simulacra
enough to strain your syllables.

Every ticket has its price. Disneyland,
like Santa Barbara, is a paradise,
as Baudrillard would have said,

but even a town like Celebration, FL
has a record of murder.
Like Santa Barbara, it remains a paradise.

What Marx said: History repeats,
first as tragedy, then as farce.
A broken, murdered record

dragging along the needle of your teeth.
Neither tragedy nor farce,
my tongue is not cheesecloth.
Scott Walker, this is your love poem.

© Andrew Rihn
Here is a link to an article about the Governor's legislation and the mass protests surrounding it.
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Andrew Rihn is the author of several slim volumes of poetry, including "The Rust Belt MRI (Pudding House). He lives in Canton, OH and can be found online at his blog Midwestern Sex Talk.

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