My Favorite Bit of Poetry
Once I typed out my favorite poem for a dear friend as art. I used an old typewriter. In fact, it had a sheet in the wheel that was filled with cheers that I had typed out from middle school. Yes, I've always been this level of intense organization and categorization and documentation. I blame low-level anxiety and that my mother was a librarian. The Dewey Decimal System seeped into my soul when I was quite young.
Because it is difficult to make out (which is my favorite part of the artwork—that one has to work so hard to consume it—I'll paste the text below so it can be read at the speed which it was intended. The cadence of the piece and the feel of the words on my tongue are other worldly.
Among the Things He Does Not Deserve
Greek olives in oil, fine beer, the respect of colleagues,
the rapt attention of an audience, pressed white shirts,
just one last-second victory, sympathy, buttons made
to resemble pearls, a pale daughter, living wages, a father
with Italian blood, pity, the miraculous reversal of time,
a benevolent god, good health, another dog, nothing
cruel and unusual, spring, forgiveness, the benefit
of the doubt, the next line, cold fingers against his chest,
rich bass notes from walnut speakers, inebriation, more ink,
a hanging curve, great art, steady rain on Sunday, the purr
of a young cat, the crab cakes at their favorite little place,
the dull pain in his head, the soft gift of her parted lips.
"Among the Things He Does Not Deserve" by Dan Albergotti, from The Boatloads. © BOA Editions, 2008.