September 2020
Jefferson Carter
carter7878@gmail.com
carter7878@gmail.com
Bio Note: I'm an opportunist, not a poet with a plan. Whatever catches my fancy,
I write about. In grad school, I fell for Jonathan Swift. I still have to rein in my satirical
impulses to protect whatever is tender in my poems.
Starry Night
We went to Dee’s for dinner & I got into her medicine cabinet. I floated through dessert like a starry night. My internist, a good guy, really, but he wears these beads & tells stupid jokes. I kept dropping hints— I pee all night. I break things. I forgot a jacket somewhere. Would Valium help? Or something stronger? He acts like I’m Van Gogh waving a butter knife. Remember Joni Mitchell? How she kidded around? Hey, man, do “Starry Night” again, man.
From Get Serious: New and Selected Poems (Chax Press: 2013)
Mockingbird
Our third president owned a pet mockingbird named Dick. Let’s not mention what else he owned. Dick dug Monticello, that big white layer cake. He’d click & chatter. He’d mimic the field slaves’ hosannahs until he’d almost faint, wobbling on his perch like a double handful of dirty cotton.
From Get Serious: New and Selected Poems (Chax Press: 2013)
©2020 Jefferson Carter
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It is very important. -FF