Comrade Barysh (CTG)
I'm snoozing on the AM Marc Train
with a sour stomach: checks bouncing;
shouldn't have eaten those two bananas.
I just read Barysh's "Stream of Consciousness"
-- will the thoughts of Commissar Alan assist?
A Barysh Manifesto! Good for whatever ails me!
Although his bathtub reverie's not exactly Marxist
-- it's more Barysh Lite, Alan soaking while
bragging how he can work the taps with his feet.
Twinkle-Toes Barysh! His Pinko cynicism touts
the End-of-All-I-Hold-Dear. My bowels groan
like bombs rolling out of a B-52's hatch.
Comrade Barysh, kindly pass the seltzer.
Christopher T. George
Note: Alan Barysh, Baltimore-based U.S. poet, activist, jazz enthusiast, former printer to the Black Panther Party, published the essay "Stream of Consciousness" in the latest "Water" issue of Manorborn. Much recommended.
Thanks, Pablo. Have a great weekend, mate.
So this goes to prove that you really do have you're best thoughts in the tub, even if you're travelling on the train?
Although, I'm a little dissappointed he couldn't figure out how to work the 'bubbles' [IOW 'wind' - he's composing in the bath] into the verse. ie: "bowels groan like bombs rolling out of a B-52's hatch" Maybe he should've quoted a 'Wellington Bomber' [of dam buster fame] instead? I think that would have been more suited to his composing environment?
Thanks for stopping by and commenting, Darren. Much appreciated.
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