the first essence [5]

here is the seventh poem from my unpublished anthology Poems Written in Brady's UCORE Notes at 3AMish ca 2001:

Theater of Hate
Thumb.
I bite it
At you.

beth and i are considering a cross-country road trip to attend danny warren's wedding. hoping to secure lodgings in spokane, i contacted the original inspiration for these poems, brady hatfield. brady seemed optimistic, but spokane is just the first pit stop; danny's wedding is in saskatoon, which means, according to brady, they might as well get married on the moon. that's a lot of driving. unfortunately, today's poem is not about weddings or driving. i'm afraid that might be a bit too sentimental. therefore, i have selected a poem that is perhaps the most raw of the anthology. it is a poem with teeth. it bristles in a way that the reader can't quite explain. with its economical style, the poem bypasses the analytical matter of the brain and races straight for that ancient primordial throne of anger. Theater of Hate is certainly not my favorite poem in the anthology, but it is the most dangerous. For more information concerning this poetry, please refer to my post entitled 'the first essence [1]' or other poems from this anthology (simply search 'first essence' in my blog).


beth the s.o. 'showering in the jungle.' yelapa, mexico.

i wish i had taken this picture. i really like the contrast of light colors on the left and the dark, almost silhouttey, figure on the right. and i love the two characters of water: the spray and the cascading drip from my face. and she captured a great facial expression; i'm not sure what it means, but it's certainly interesting. still, in this case i think i'd prefer to take a shower than take a picture of someone taking a shower, because it was sooooooooo cooooool to shower out in the open jungle!

the first essence [4]

Here is the fourth poem from my unpublished anthology Poems Written in Brady's UCORE Notes at 3AMish ca 2001:

DiGiorno
She is frozen
Locked in a box of frost.

perhaps by continually mentioning shaun alexander in the context of poetry i am unintentionally cheapening his poetic legacy. if this is the case, please forgive me, for i must make one final comparison. consider the nfl a symbol for the entire literary history of the world. within this bulging body of work, my anthology, Poems Written in Brady's UCORE Notes at 3AMish, would be best represented by the 2005 nfc champions, the seattle seahawks. and, stepping deeper into the anthology, one finds DiGiorno, the shaun alexander of poetery, the mvp. For more information concerning this poetry, please refer to my post entitled 'the first essence [1]' or other poems from this anthology (simply search 'first essence' in my blog).


andrew david. 'big fish' puerto vallarta, day 1.
check out his eyeball. i've always wanted to say that.

the first essence [3]

Here is the first poem from my unpublished anthology Poems Written in Brady's UCORE Notes at 3AMish ca 2001:

Happiness Ceased
There are times when one might see nights
Days when sunshine takes flight like kites

..........oobleygoo

..........snocketyzoo

......................these marches on stale grounds
......................embark the dogs and mighty hounds

.................................like steps
...........................................like stairs
.........................................................up & down
...........................................from terrible heights

(its hard to know where to start a discussion with this poem. while it lacks the quick gut punch of the previous poems, i'm sure you'll agree that its a poem that sticks with you; like frosting stains from your wedding anniversary cake, it somehow evokes that strange yet lasting combination of frown and smile. such odd bosom buddies. now, in order to reduce the overwhelming amounts of fan mail that i anticipate from the unfurling of this masterpiece, let me answer a few questions right off the bat. first, i'm sure that many of you are wondering about the possible influence of george herbert on this poem. indeed, at the time of this poem i'd been studying herbert's use of carmina figurata and somehow fell under its hypnotic spell. second, while many readers may identify that lines 3 and 4 poke fun at Milton's mistranslation of Virgil, there are no direct quotes from either writer. and third, yes, i am still a bit upset that ben gibbard of the postal service failed to acknowledge me in his liner notes for the inspiration for his title track.)

For more information concerning this poetry, please refer to my post entitled 'the first essence [1]' or other poems from this anthology: Command.

the first essence [2]

Here is the sixth poem from my unpublished anthology Poems Written in Brady's UCORE Notes at 3AMish ca 2001:

Command
Spread your wings
Not your legs

(i really have no anecdotes to share about this poem. looking back, i think it may have been too revolutionary, too cutting edge for a conservative christian arts journal like Second Essence.)

For more information concerning this poetry, please refer to my post entitled 'the first essence [1]'

the first essence [1]

Unless I'm railroaded onto the topic of linguistics (and how they ruined the year 2003) or poetry, I have an overwhelmingly positive view of my alma mater. Let me explain those poetic misgivings. Seattle Pacific University is quite keen on encouraging students to pursue their vocation (in contrast to occupation). They see a student's time on campus as a four year spirit quest, but instead of wandering into the forest to find one's power-animal, its more of an academically christian pursuit. in any case, while on this path to vocational enlightenment, i was astonished to discover that my future lay in poetry. i was a poet laureate in waiting, tennyson with the touch of a smile: andrew, lord david. however (cue angry crashing chords), no sooner did i discover my poetic supremacy then my poetic dreams were dashed by the university's yearly arts journal. You see, the myopic editorial staff of Second Essence refused to publish some of my finest work. Thus, I was forced to pursue a life of Crime and Delinquency (or more accurately and long-windedly put: attend the class, acquire a sociology minor, and spend the next three years working with schizophrenics at a federal hospital). To spite this otherwise fine institution and to finally give my poems their due, I will periodically post my jilted verse here on the 17 point scale. These poems come from the unpublished Poems Written in Brady's UCORE Notes at 3AMish. It is unavailable in stores, but please feel free to contact me if you are interested in signed copies of any of the poems.

Here is the third poem from this anthology:

Goose
White, frosted flakes
Raise high, swiftly

(an interesting anecdote: this poem so moved me that i later took to using the term 'goose' as a curse word of sorts. i wish you the same touching experience)