Alan Catlin


from Memories Ate

                              662-

Fun facts with scientific jargon:
euphemism or creative obfuscation.

Nocturnal penile tumescent monitoring.
Vaginacavernisus reflex.

A dildo camera.

Do you know where your scientific
Instruments are (were). Who has
The film rights. The archives.
	


                              663-

She did the hoochie koochie real slow.
Little Egypt. And the Coasters.
My baby does the hanky panky.
Tommy James. And the Shondells.
Not Allen Ginsberg’s erotic dream
of T. S. Eliot. He do the police in
different voices. Ezra Pound. 
“Poetry is a centaur.”
 


                              664-

Reflections in a Golden Eye. 
Not on a Golden Pond. Not a
Temple of the Golden Pavilion. 
Boys. Girls. Rock n roll. Down
And Out. Like Orwell. Like Jack 
London. Like Nan Goldin. In
Europe. Mexico, NYC. LA. 
Not dancing in the streets. Cooking
Up. Getting tattoos. Body artists.
Girls with girls. Boys with boys.
Girls and boys together. Self-portraits
of the artist abused.



                              665-

Behind the doors of Sophie Calle’s Hotel. 
Life left behind. Suit case contents exposed.
Neat freaks and slobs. Dildos and douche
Bags. Hot water bottles and heating pads.
Vibrators. Battery powered or plug-ins.
Black negligees (worn). Men’s u-trou (soiled)
Condom wrappers. Trusses. His and Hers
umbrellas. Art Museum post cards. Triple X-
rated fuck books. Best sellers. Philosophy
texts. Neat piles of poetry (rare). The bidet is
for. Towels. Soiled linens. Overflowing ashtrays.
Empty wine bottles. Liquor bottles. Beer bottles.
Yesterday clothes. Tomorrows. Only your chamber
Maid knows for sure. One like Sophie Calle
Who peer, record and publish.



                              666-

East Village Tenement Museum.
The way we were. In. On. Hester 
Street. Orchard Street. Living in
the USA. The streets are paved 
with fool’s gold. The American 
dream has hovels in it.



                              667-

Bedrooms of the fallen. Perfectly
preserved tombs of the unknown 
solider(s). Artifacts of lives before.
The war. Any war. All wars.
An elegy. A memorial with bowling
trophies. High school sports letters.
Team photos. Football. Baseball.
Soccer. Strike. And fire teams.



                              668-

Bruises make your body. (more)
Meaningful. The heart shaped facial 
one or the twin black eyes. Both.
Red iris sunsets. Expressive. As
ectopic pregnancy scars. A heartbreak
tango. For the blood-stained beds.
The many beds of Manhattan. Berlin.
London. Mexico City. LA. Women.
And the sheets that never get changed. 
The ones tacked over the windows.
Or on the sagging in the middle beds. 
Another Saturday Night and I ain’t got
Nobody (again) in a 43nd street whore 
house. Girls. Girls. Girls.

Alan Catlin is a poet, editor and wordsmith currently living in Upstate NY. Among his most recent publications is a group of poems about coming of age in the 60's, Sunshine Superman (Cyberwit) ,and The Road to Perdition (Alien Buddha), three chapbooks length collections in one book, from a series of Noir movie poems now eleven chapbooks long under the working title Hollyweird.

Collations of earlier poems from the series which the above pieces are from have appeared as two books, the first, Memories, is from Alien Buddha, and the second, Memories Too, is from Dos Madres. There's a third ready to go.

 
 

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