| The rules of the slam are simple.
Each week we'll be posting the two contenders. Read the poems. Fill out the score card. Submit the
score card. Then tune in the following week to see who is champ. The champ returns for the next bout until she/he is dethroned. If you decide to jump into the ring yourself, just send us a poem by clicking "submit", and we'll respond as a soon as possible. |
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| Contender 1 Contender 2 | ||||
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Charles Altvater's Waiting For El Nino for LenaTen p.m. on the second of November Still nearly 75 degrees outside No end in sight Everyone is waiting for El Nino We're all waiting for the rain He steps inside Not because he's thirsty He just feels the loneliness that way Cold emptiness that can never be filled Incurable as cancer So he has a belt or two Every day and each night Especially when cold teeth tear at his guts When the cold wind slaps his face When one more step May as well be a walk to the moon He sits, A drink appears Watches the numbers Popping on the Keno screen I always bets the blues He thinks Always bets blues And the seconds drip Into the sink behind the bar He hears them fall away Almost like rain Drops start to spot the sidewalk outside He's too drunk to notice Sandbags stockpiled >From Ukiah to Ocotillo Wells A hundred million tons A decade of debris Scoured from the flood control channels The homeless scoured from the river beds Watching for dark lines on the horizon Straining to smell the rain We're all waiting for El Nino Everyone is waiting on the rain 11/23/97 camino real
Adrian Bowden's images of no identity so we have fought for freedom we have this ease television consumerism soon cool will be conservative thinking because we're heading for a diet of over eating leisure time a pleasure dome state of tranquillity tranquilised stumbling through a behavioural experiment on the couch pressing buttons as our minds implode strobe lights flashing we're dancing slowly to a techno non music on drugs depressants depressed already in a hostile padded cell world without sharp edges cause we have all illusions nothing eludes us in our wealth of choices no voices in our heads just still beds dreams infected distorted advertising subconscious supermarket aisles packaging plastic pops and peanut butter jelly belly laughs floating on a soda stream picking from the pickled onion tree flapping jacks in mallow marshes full of fudge and quick sandwich spreads across the malt teasing mire we believe in Jesus Christ the almighty son of Santa Claus Christmas hysteria Easter Bunny Daffy Duck pogo stick crucifixion truth is stranger than a nazarene manger with a star studded cast of charlatans western movies cecille B vanilli cling wrap surgery to keep fresh vacuum packed to keep clean |
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