Jag har aldrig läst rolig poesi, vilket med stor sannolikhet beror på att jag inte har läst särskilt mycket poesi alls. Men sedan Below Beneath flyttade in i mitt hjärta har jag, om inte fallit handlöst för, i alla fall fått upp ögonen för poesi. Så när Lena Dunham och Jennie Konners nyhetsbrev Lenny Letter landade mjukt i min mailinkorg med ämnesraden The Lenny Poetry Issue öppnade jag det med en gång. Min vanligaste tankegång när Lenny Letter når mig är “Det här ska jag läsa sen. Någon annan gång, när jag har mer tid. Kanske ikväll, eller om en vecka.”. Men bortsett från en (läsvärd!) intervju med Hillary Clinton har jag aldrig tagit mig an brevet.
I The Lenny Poetry Issue hyllar Lena och Jennie unga kvinnliga poeter. En av poeterna heter Chelsea Martin och hennes små betraktelser och tankerundor fick mig att le. De var lustfyllda och jag kände mig uppfylld; uppfylld över att poesi kan vara så lättillgängligt och uppfylld över att poesi kan få mig att skratta till.
Ur Mickey av Chelsea Martin
(Mickey kommer att bli publicerad på Curbside Splendor Publishing Juli 2016 )
Sometimes I will put a not-very-sad song on and sing it while practicing to cry and stop crying on command. Sometimes I videotape myself doing this. At first I thought it was art, but now I think maybe it’s something else.
—
I have a new concept for a show. It will be called BEST JUST LEAVE HER ALONE.
I’ll hire a woman to perform in the gallery. She will be required to wander around the space, never talking, never making eye contact with anyone. I’ll instruct everyone not to talk to her.
I will invite all her friends and loved ones to the show. I will invite her ex-boyfriends and people she was mean to in high school and the neighbor kid who she used to babysit who is now in college. I’ll invite her ex–best friend who she hasn’t talked to in eight years. I’ll find all these people on Facebook. I’ll hire them if I have to. I’ll instruct them not to talk to the performer under any circumstances.
I’ll leave a comment book at the front of the gallery, and there will be a big sign over it that says: PLEASE WRITE ANYTHING YOU WISH. But I will have informed everyone ahead of time that the only thing they’re permitted to write is: LOOKS LIKE YOU’RE DOING WELL and their own name.
—-
I AM SURE THAT ONE DAY I WILL BE A GREAT ARTIST
I’LL BE SO SUCCESSFUL THAT YOU’LL BE AFRAID TO TALK TO ME
AND I’LL STILL BE AFRAID TO TALK TO YOU, TOO
—
I’m going to call my art show MICKEY, and on opening night when Mickey notices that the work in the show has little to do with him and confronts me about it, I’ll pretend I’m getting a phone call and the pretend phone call won’t go well and I’ll start crying loudly and ask Mickey if he’ll drive me to the nearest bus stop and, I don’t know, maybe I’ll find purpose and meaning at the bus stop.
—
Mickey and I went on a hike to look for mushrooms at Huckleberry Preserve. Well, not really looking. Our friend warned us there would not be any mushrooms there, but we hadn’t asked about mushrooms.
We went to Huckleberry Preserve anyway, not caring one way or the other about whether there would be mushrooms.
We didn’t see any mushrooms.
It wasn’t a very close friend.
—
