This Wednesday April 16th 7 PM @ Ducky Waddle’s Emporium (414 N Coast Hwy 101), the Poetry Ruckus featuring Roy Mash. Read on about our friend Roy:
Roy will be reading from his newest book, “Buyer’s Remorse”. “Buyer’s Remorse is a celebration of the small, the overlooked, the underrated. … the poems caper around the themes of the body, of mathematics and rationality, adolescence and middle-age, love and fear and death. The tone ranges from the irreverent to the wistful… Drawing on sources from The Three Stooges to Archimedes, Lavoisier to Tweety Bird, Mash is a latter day Anti-Oracle, a nail in the tire of post-modernity, an incorrigible wag… Roy Mash writes a deliciously engaging and clever sort of object poem. With an exhilarating precision, his poems uncover those illuminating perceptions that lie buried beneath the commonplace… Again and again, he finds tiny but significant moments that no one else has caught on the wing: here is the anatomy of the sneeze, and how ‘you may feel your life come apart,’ much the way ‘the body / of the muffin suddenly crumbles’ in mid-bite. It would not be surprising if memorable gems like ‘Love of Slapstick,’ ‘The Untouchables,’ and ‘BUYER’S REMORSE’ eventually find their way into contemporary anthologies and become part of our poetic canon.”- Steve Kowit
So c’mon out for another riveting night of fun and poetry @ the Duck this Wednesday. Doors at 7, open poetry starts at 7:30 and guest goes on at 9 PM. We want YOU to join us!
We leave you with a poem of Roy’s from his homepage:
Desire for Retirement
Sometimes I envy my bed, how it gets to bask all day with the dog,
the pair of them loafing on the quiet raft of the afternoon,
lulled in the lapping of the clock, the still life still on the wall,
linens adrift on the shelf, the whole house awash with cushiness.
What is the work of the bed, but to bask all day with the dog?
What is the work of the dog, but to quiver his ear at the phone?
Somewhere is a midday world of penny loafers and bargain matinees,
saunas and marinas and ten-speeds and laptops in strudel cafés.
Bored? Me? Not. My plan's to saw off one day from the next,
to produce my quota of carbon dioxide, to throw myself into the job
of dabbing up the seeds that have fallen from an everything bagel
(though, to be truthful, I may delegate this to my little finger),
to join the road gang of sleepers-in, pay my dues to Local 6
of the lookers-out-of-windows, bow to the whims of my new boss
the TV Guide, take on the grunt work of doing zip; then every afternoon
at four, following my meeting with the Committee of Clouds,
to return, exhausted from a long day of breathing in and out,
to the bed and the dog, and tilt the glider of my nose
ever so slightly down, the descent so easeful, so gradual,
I won't even know when I’m on the ground.
-from Serving House Journal
Ruthless Hippies 