Loren Goodman


I’m on the Amtrak toward New Haven
From Providence passed a sunny patch
Of sea water with leaves like some New
Heaven. I’m spread out in the club car
It’s a rocky ride with all the amenities
I’ve got an apple in a bag
Along with asparagus & Italian
Sandwich. Can I have your attention?
We’re now in Mystic. Two girls pass
With low waistbands, pajama sweats
That say “TOO LOW” on the back
Funny how these trends take form
And people live by them—someday
They’ll be gone, and come back
Changed. Once there I’ll hop
On the 56 Vermonter with its green
Wood paneling up to Amherst, Mass
Home of Emily Dickinson. Then
Disembark, eat dinner, take a walk
Tonight at Amherst Books, 8 PM: Lorenzo
Guzman & Miguel de Cassis, Yale Series
Poets 30 years apart, Mike won with
Obscenities, his best-selling war-cries
From the molten human lava of Vietnam
It’ll be fun, and warm
To be with people
I’ve never met, gentle
And full of rip-roaring
Intensities. Once I’ve slept
And dreamt it’s back on the
Bus and train to Man—hat—tan
And its glimmering spires for
A Saturday boy’s night out
With Tim (editor-in-chief, Artforum)
And Troy (commanding attorney
For the city of Brooklyn)
God Ken, the tight sweats
Are so low on these girls’
Tan skin ass-hips!
Kid across from me
Is chewing at his Amtrak cheese-
Burger in brow-bending confusion
Over a deep blue white-water bridge
Of whether it’s good or not
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll soon
Be arriving in New London.”
Ken the sea is
There are cement posts
Rising out of the water
I’m glimpsing through tunnels
Bathed in light
The girls are smiling
Warming their hair
How the blonde speaks: “she
Gets jealous so easily” but
It’s sun music to me
I’m heating up
They’re stretching out
A train conductor sits down
With an oomph! Rattled with
The bulky rhythm of the train
She’s black, she’s beautiful
She gets up, says: “I shall return!”
Ken, this sandwich I’m eating is so good
I’m sandwiched between the good feelings
Of my trip and the sandwich itself
(She’s back!)
Ok, it’s true
I haven’t started
Eating yet but
I’m telling you
It’s gonna be great


I’ve got an idea
For a new Etch A Sketch
In which every knob &
Screen is attached to
So exactly what you etch
And sketch appears in
Deep & distant snowy
Fields, some trees
Deer crunching
Tracks through
Lines you’ve
Formed as same
In that far away
Stretch of Greenland
When you shake it
It snows
Now the de(nostril steam)er
Quivers in the woods at field’s
Edge; it’s just an idea
Cool & alert, but
It stays there
As long as it stays
In your mind

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