Saturday, February 12, 2011

Guest Poet: Ricky Garni


it’s what we do to trees, to carts,
to jack, to blossoms,
to pies, to annies,

the fleshy pome of my pome
cultivated in numberless varieties
in temperate zones

sometimes my finger is restless
and immature. it goes
too far.



Just because I like to say “herb-encrusted eye-of-round roast” I added sage to the usual herb, rosemary. And then I cooked my herb-encrusted eye-of-round roast and then I ate my herb-encrusted eye-of-round roast and you know what? It didn’t taste like rosemary anymore. It tasted like rosemary and something else. “This tastes funny” my son said. “Where’s the rosemary?” “It’s still there, “ I said, “it is just below the other thing.”

The other thing. You can see where this is going.

I realized that you can still say “herb-encrusted eye-of-round roast” with just one herb. And that one herb should be rosemary. When you are eating, it is important not to fight, whether you are a person, or an herb, an herb like the kind that you tend to find in herb-encrusted eye-of-round roast. Like rosemary. Definitely. Or, if you prefer, sage. Although I don’t know why. We never get along, do we? Anyway,

Next time you are going to make an herb-encrusted eye-of-round roast, remember this tip that I picked up from going to the movies:

1) Rosemary is like Mia Farrow at 19 with a little pixie haircut and a little boy’s voice.

2) Sage is like James Coburn in In Like Flint and he is smoking a cigar and his hair
is silver-grey and he is sitting on a leather couch with a cabal of women, all pretty
and in bikinis on a couch with the suave James Coburn.

His teeth are really big! They are TOO big!

Remember this the next time you decide to make eye of round roast with herbs encrusted.


It's Hard

IT'S SO HARD TO WRITE A STORY. Especially when you are trying to be and think and do everything as someone else. That's why I have decided to write a story from the standpoint of a cymbal. It might be more difficult than writing a story from the viewpoint of someone, say, for example, Joey, a Joey with heart and feelings and foibles and complex emotions, but I think that most people will permit a writer a greater latitude when it comes to a character that is made of tin and copper. I mean, bronze. Especially if I can delve into his heart and feelings and foibles and complex emotions. Being naturally insecure, I have always felt that anything is better than nothing. And I enjoy raising the bar a little so that, even if I do not succeed fully, people will see me as daring and valiant. Also, my skin is sometimes bronze.


1) WHAT DOES IT FEEL LIKE WHEN HE IS IN A ROOM ALL BY HIMSELF AND THE LIGHTS ARE TURNED OFF? Answer: he is probably very scared. Reason: the lights never come on unless someone is going to walk up to him and beat the svenshine out of him with two sticks. Two wooden sticks that are hard. From out of the darkness and you are asleep and having dreams and the next thing you know it's terrible.

2) DOES HE PREFER ONE PERSON TO BEAT HIM WITH STICKS TO ANOTHER? Answer: Yes. Reason: cymbals are no different from anybody else, or anything else. Everyone has preferences when it comes to the people they would choose to hit them with sticks. For you it might be someone named, for example again, Joey. For a cymbal, it would probably be somebody named Ringo.

3) WHY NOT BUDDY RICH? Answer: No please. Reason: just look at him. You have answered your own question by just looking at him. If you can't find a picture of him, you will answer your own question just by looking at him once you find a picture of him unless you forget about it, in which case music is not one of your guiding passions. Nor photography. Which isn't bad–we can't all be passionate about music and photography and things like that. In a way, thank God we aren't, don't you think? You might be interested in something else. I am thinking, now, whale kebabs. Whale kebabs like the ones that you can find in Reykjavík. Reykjavík is in Iceland. I like the idea of eating one someday in Iceland. Wouldn't that be fun? We should do it sometime. I'm sorry, we haven't been properly introduced. My name is Skarphéinn Guríur.

4) WHEN THE LIGHTS COME ON, AND HE HEARS FOOTSTEPS, WHAT DOES HE SAY? Good question. Answer: it could be one of many things. Possible responses include: "Mommy?," or "Uh oh" or, possibly, "Ringo?" or "Skarphéinn Guríur, is that you? I am so hungry" or "Is it morning already? Can you see the fjords in the light of this winter dawn?" And last but not least, there is always: "My God! Buddy???" and then, again, "Mommy."


Reading George Eliot Today

I watch with joy as she describes Fred, the cuddly reprobate, as “3 and 20.”

Lydgate, new to Middlemarch and eager to make his mark as a progressive practioner of medicine, is “7 and 20.”

And so I thought I would try it out on myself. Is George Eliot in the room? No, she’s not in the room. The coast is clear.

OK, then: I am 1 and 50. The man seated uncomfortably in aisle seat 15-C on American Airlines flight 2189 to Panama is talking

to a woman in seat 15-F who is from Africa en route to Panama on American Airlines flight 2189 about duty-free shops and he

Appears to be healthy and bonny, more so than me, in fact, and he is 8 and 60, if he is a day, with small amounts of grey

Chest hair eluding the top button his his shirt as they shilly shally here and there, somehow, surprisingly adding a youthful lustre to his appearance when suddenly he says

“That was, of course, a while ago, when the euro was much stronger”

And she laughs, and strokes his knee, surprisingly, really, I mean, after all, she couldn’t be more than 3 and 30.

© Ricky Garni 2011

Ricky Garni is a graphic designer living in Carrboro, North Carolina. His work can be found in EVERGREEN REVIEW, CAMEL SALOON, USED FURNITURE REVIEW, ORION HEADLESS and other places. His latest work, LANA CANTRELL, is an internet hit. He didn’t know that many people knew her, but now he knows that many people do or would like to.

1 comment:

  1. "Cymbals" who would've thought, but you did. And the "sage" I could really relate to James Coburn as sage. I like these very intriguing and interesting poems.


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