I spent fifteen uncomfortable minutes
On the hopper in a unisex bathroom
Under a photograph captioned Lou Reed
And Laurie Anderson at the Hominy Grill.
Its thousand words — all questions.
Whose fifteen minutes were they?
Mine? The chef’s? Lou and Laurie
Had theirs. (One expects the blank
Stare from Lou.) What does Laurie find
So amusing? My modesty? Shrimp
And grits for breakfast? Waking up
In South Carolina? What are they doing
In Charleston? Did they get soaked
Like me — walking up Meeting
Down Calhoun — right on Rutledge?
Answers don’t come and—of course
A picture doesn’t prove a thing
These days. Who can trust the eyes
Of a velvet Jesus? What miracle
Earned this space in such a chapel?
© 2008 Jeffrey Roberts
About Me
- Jeff Roberts
- No one likes everything. We explore. We discover. We winnow. When young we are silly in our devotion to music. We pretend. We imitate our favorite artists. When Midnight Train to Georgia comes on the radio, I still turn into a Pip. Jimmy Buffet’s A Pirate Looks at Forty still touches me. I am similarly affected when I encounter good and great art and poetry. Joseph Cornell, Seamus Heaney, Louise Nevelson, Louise Gluck, Giorgio de Chirico, William Carpenter, Dali. When I see a Duchamp that nails it for me, I have the urge to windmill my arm like Pete Townshend. What if we let art and poetry sneak up on us like music? What if art came in 3 minute bursts and had a volume knob? What if?
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