217 Readings | 3 Ratings

Martin Ferry’s Autumn Publication Date Begins in Ohio (James Wright/Franz Wright Mash-Up)

I think of Polacks nursing long beers in Tiltonsville,
one of the few pleasures of writing. (I just noticed
that it is.) My own private dreaming of heroes: 

Their sons grow suicidally beautiful for a cold night 
in Boston; all morning their women cluck like starved 
pullets and gallop terribly against each other’s bodies.





At the beginning of October is the thought 
of one’s book in the hands of a kind-hearted national.

I hate myself. 

And want to.  





Die, day!

Dying for love in the Shreve High football stadium,
and all afternoon they say, therefore, 

“I am Federico Garcia Lorica 
at the edge of town! How did I get here? And want to?”





Live forever, only different.





I’m in the cemetery now.
(The forecast calls all the proud fathers “our ashamed.”)

To go home, a sparrow limps past on its
little bone crutch, saying, “Intelligent person somewhere!” 

(I can’t remember what the…)





Tomorrow will be just like today: risen from the dead.

Others’ hour. 

Right now, literature will lose, sunlight will win. Don’t 
worry which. (Means? The next day.) 

I will love my life–
and the ruptured night watchman of Wheeling Steel, 
and gray faces of Negroes in the blast furnace at Benwood. 



















Posted 01/04/14
Statement of Concept: This poem is a line-based mash-up of the poems "Autumn Begins in Martins Ferry, Ohio" (James Wright) and "Publication Date" (Franz Wright). The former poem (with audio) can be found here: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15590. The latter poem can be found here: http://www.loc.gov/poetry/180/032.html. The order of lines in the original poems has been rearranged, and on occasion punctuation, enjambment, and typeface have been amended. Otherwise, the lines remain entirely intact, though their meaning has of course been substantially altered. As in contemporary music, the verse mash-up is intended to both honor and creatively expand upon its source texts. This is defiantly not a work of "uncreative writing."
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