The incredible disappearing Kleinzahler

Wow, you can write a whole piece about SF bay area poets and completely forget to mention August, who btw has had at least one poem and usually more in the poemanias top ten for years... here's an oldy from the 'major moments in reality' playlist:


Where Souls Go

Not telling where: down the hill
and out of sight -
soapbox derby heroes in a new dimension.
Don't bother to resurrect them
unless some old newsreel clip
catches them shocked
with a butter knife in the toaster.
Countless snaps and episodes in space
once you hit the viewfinder that fits.
It's a lie anyway, all Hollywood -
the Mind is a too much thing
cleansing itself like a great salt sea.
Rather, imagine them in the eaves

among pidgeons
or clustered round the D train's fan
as we cross the bridge to Brooklyn.
And make that a Friday night
Julay say. We are walking past
the liquor store to visit our love.
Two black boys are eating Corn Doodles
in the most flamboyant manner possibe.
She waits, trying
to have the best song on as we arrive.
The moon is blurred.
Our helicopters are shooting at fieldworkers.
The Mets are down 3-1 in the 6th.

August Kleinzahler