One Of My Greatest Inspirations As A Writer Is The Late Great LA Times Food Reviewer Jonathan Gold. I

One of my greatest inspirations as a writer is the late great LA Times food reviewer Jonathan Gold. I legitimately think he should be considered one of the best writers of the last 100 years. Look at this.

One Of My Greatest Inspirations As A Writer Is The Late Great LA Times Food Reviewer Jonathan Gold. I
One Of My Greatest Inspirations As A Writer Is The Late Great LA Times Food Reviewer Jonathan Gold. I
One Of My Greatest Inspirations As A Writer Is The Late Great LA Times Food Reviewer Jonathan Gold. I
One Of My Greatest Inspirations As A Writer Is The Late Great LA Times Food Reviewer Jonathan Gold. I

Poetry. Non-fiction par excellence. This is a man who not only understood the visceral, the sensory, the sublime, but he could put it into words.

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bitch this is all you’re gonna get. this life, this face, this body. you better not ‘maybe in another universe’ your way out of everything. sit your ass down and face this. go make tea and have a picnic and read a goddamn book. kiss your loved ones, send that damn text, and hug your siblings. this is all you’re gonna get.

1 month ago
By August, we are sluggish with love and slide two
barrettes into the night of my hair. Like twin fireflies.
Like rabbit feet dyed blue and downhearted, stamping
the side of my head. July’s shadow is almost rot
and we haven’t spoken in days. I play pool with Mik
and count the ways he sinks ball after ball while I await
the doom of going second, soon regret letting him break.
I bet on this game. I bet on the waning of light, fame. I know
most things dim. It’s hot when I leave the bar and I say
Come, sun, you muscular star, thinking heatstroke
might strike this state of weather from my heart.
The trigger of seasons, the treasons of these city streets.
Orchard and Broome. We loom. We make reasons and room
for why things can’t work; we lurk into autumn.
We warm our hands for October’s plume. We say soon, soon,
soon something will be revealed. We fool no one
and are no one’s fool, least of all the late summer gods
who know a burn, who rope in hope, who prepare us
for a meal of dead light. In August, I want snow. I want July.
Midsummer prophet sight. Belief. Faith. A cathedral
with all her weight. A winter love. A new year.
A regal infancy. A Sunday, born.

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1 month ago
In deciding what I am, I’ve ruled out cat, vulture, shoe,
a sadist who tortures people to death in a Syrian hospital,
a president who separates families at the border,
a handful of purple irises at the beginning of the path
to heaven. Is there memory in the shade of a tree
of a lynching fifty years ago, when I was nine? And do I love
that tree? Love the sinner, not the sin. Forgive the electricity,
not the singeing of genitals. The more I know about human nature
the more I plan to be tall grass in a field. Until then
I’ll tell my wife I love her in Toronto and Blacksburg and bed,
in pajamas and bluejeans and song, in theory and fact and dream.
I will not gouge a man’s eye out, I promise, yet the eye is out,
the man is dead, and the geese I’m listening to have no idea
that we’re as wild as the coyotes that would tear them apart.
If given a choice I’d not choose to be human. If given a choice
how to be human, I’d say like a glass of water. While I have
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in Detroit, in general, in detail, in vain, in spite, in depth,
in the shallow light of the moon, in contrast to hating myself,
in sympathy and in stealth, in time as a ghost and right now
as a poet wondering if surgeons, during a transplant,
tell the shivering and recycled heart it is loved. I assume so,
but I’ve never asked a heart on its second time around,
Were you christened, were you blessed, are you worth
all this trouble?

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1 month ago
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1 month ago
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1 month ago

“You can run, run, run away from a lot of things in life, but you can’t run away from yourself. And the key to happiness is to understand and accept who you are.”

— Dale Archer

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b-luish - you've got to believe in the poetry
you've got to believe in the poetry

because everything else in your life will fail you, including yourself

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