dispensing with protection

the overwhelming gratitude & energy of the audience motivated the lovely, 
little tambourine player way back on the stage to undulate yet ponder endlessly,
a million warring sentiments & inquires in her brain, like the evening when
persistent telephone rings of her insurance broker woke her again & again from
the fog of her deluged Seconal sleep
recalling traipsing the back alleys of the decrepit Thailand village
trying to erase from her mind the sterile images of the manicured lawns back home 
where she rolled through her childhood – 
just exactly how many arrogant orphans does it take to keep a father’s body in the 
grave?
and what’s an earnest suicide attempt without a hell raising night on the town
afterwards?
straining to see clearly & still stir what was left of her muse
so Zen whacked in Tokyo, so very Bush wonked in the District of Columbia, & then 
abandoned in Rotterdam
she continued to still plead “not guilty”
to giving birth to concrete visions of how it could be, should be
blame it on that field hand who lived on psilocybin and beans -not herself

you probably think it’s justified that she’s burdened
with the punishment of inadequate anticipation;
after all those times when she shrunk from duties clear, duties distinct

when they said, “Arise!” from the operating table -she pretended to sleep
when she was admonished to, “Go and sin no more” – she replied
“Bring that whiskey over here.”
when she was told to go to the end of the line – she leapt over the turnstile

it wasn’t fear & it wasn’t ennui
it was something much more powerful than either
that tried to welcome that Cocteau cinematic image in the water
a revered memory of the lake and your sun burnt legs hanging
over the canoe
stinky feet where the honeysuckle grew
mint julep in your mouth while you sang Roscoe Holcomb banjo tunes
with some cryptic hillbilly jargonology embedded in the lyrics

she was mesmerized, in a wonderful way, with those recollections
she wouldn’t trade a billion dollars for them
or the way that it was back then…

Philip Gounis is a poet, literary journalist, archivist, filmmaker, publisher, editor, concert and book reviewer from Saint Louis, Missouri. He a renowned radio broadcaster and has served as both host, co-host and producer, most notably, the talk shows Off The Beaten Path, Poetry Beat and Literature for the Halibut on KDHX FM. He has participated in various literary & music shows and events and his work has appeared in a variety of literary publications and entertainment magazines. Philip co-founded the magazine of politics and popular culture, Steamshovel Press and he is the author of two chapbooks of poetry, Some of These Have Appeared (2007) and Upgrading the Allusion (JK Publishing, 2011). 

Check out Philip’s website and purchase his chapbooks at http://philipgounis.com

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