Empty Mirror

a literary magazine

  • About
    • About Empty Mirror
    • Get in Touch
    • Support EM
    • Colophon
  • Submit
  • Contributors
  • Essays
  • On Literature
  • Poetry
  • Reviews
  • Art
  • Interviews
  • Beat
    • Beat Generation
    • Ted Joans Lives!
  • +
    • Fiction
    • Music & Film
    • News
    • On Writing
    • Book Collecting

Two Songs for Samson: An Invective Poem for Carl Solomon

Gregory Vincent St. Thomasino

Carl Solomon - Mishaps, Perhaps
Carl Solomon – MIshaps, Perhapsn

Two Songs for Samson
(an invective poem)

for Carl Solomon

Where goes your nose, Old Sam?
How mighty a germ that nestled there
Could cause so mighty a blow?
Does a note so dissonant exist
To chip your granite ear?
Are there sights such horrors hold
To pluck your baby-blues, their sockets cold?
From butcher shops I bring calves’ liver
To cook in your hot white hand.
To tempt your mouth, I may stand closer;
Not too close.
These things I do, old man, for the tender satyrs
Who danced before you and bathed naked in your pool,
Whose sweet high voices brought gods in stealth
Luring angels to heavenly choirs.
For you I will sing two songs;
Songs for your beauty, your boring charm;
The gentle hand that carved the baby lamb
Of its golden fleece.
Your sleeping-stone and green copper cup,
Do they still exist?
Can anyone use them?
As well as you’ve used me?
And your flag, oh, your flag; your face
Caboshed in heraldry, animated and cachinnating
Till that arrogant spear struck you down.
All I hear is silence;
The note of copper against stone;
Spearhead against stone;
Silk against armor.
A bilious burst shackles your perfume
To all who remember;
All who want;
All who would forgive.

Carl Solomon - MIshaps, PerhapsnI wrote this utterly fictitious “invective poem” for Carl Solomon (1928-1993). Remember his Mishaps, Perhaps (1966) and More Mishaps (1968)? I visited Carl, one afternoon, while he was living in The Bronx in New York City. Carl’s situation, there, seemed to be that he was taking care of two elderly and ailing relatives, and the apartment smelled like hospital. It was a big, old apartment with few pieces of furniture. The two were in their bedsteads, one in what would have been the living room and the other in what would have been the dining room. I had to pass through the apartment to get to Carl’s bedroom, where he sat me on a chair and he sat on the bed. He thought I came there to grill him with questions about Allen Ginsberg, but no, like I told him on the phone it was to talk about his books, Mishaps, Perhaps and More Mishaps. And we did. And he signed my copies. And he gave me a copy of the two published together in a French edition, and he signed that for me as well. In the months that followed we shared some letters and postcards (his were all written in pencil). Going to see Carl, and wanting to sense him in person, I had a question in my mind, and that question also included Artaud and Jones Very and Christopher Smart. My sense of him, then, and now, still, was that he was just worn out (and had been, for a long time).

Share on TwitterShare on Facebook

Gregory Vincent St. Thomasino

Gregory Vincent St. Thomasino was born in Greenwich Village, New York, and was raised in both the city and in the country across the Hudson River in New Jersey. He was educated at home, eventually to enter Fordham University where he received a degree in philosophy. In 2009 he received the Distinguished Scholar Award from the Doctor of Arts in Leadership program at Franklin Pierce University in New Hampshire. He is the author, most recently, of a book of poetry entitled The Valise (Dead Academics Press, 2012). In his spare time he writes at his blog, The Postmodern Romantic, and edits the online poetry journal, Eratio.

Author: Gregory Vincent St. Thomasino Tags: Allen Ginsberg, Beat Generation, Carl Solomon, poetry Category: Beat Generation, Poetry October 24, 2013

You might also like:

Tangier
My meeting with Paul Bowles in Tangier, 1980
fossil view / credit: de
Two poems by Risa Denenberg
Robert Creeley: Ted Joans, Primary Poet
rosario / credit: de
Three poems by marcia arrieta

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

I accept the Privacy Policy

 

DONATE TO BLACK LIVES MATTER

BLACK LIVES MATTER

The EM newsletter

Receive fresh poetry, reviews, essays, art, and literary news every Wednesday!


Empty Mirror

Established in 2000 and edited by Denise Enck, Empty Mirror is an online literary magazine that publishes new work each Friday.

Each week EM features several poems each by one or two poets; reviews; critical essays; visual art; and personal essays.

Subscribe Submissions Support

Recent features

  • My Father’s Map
  • On Waiting
  • Seeing Las Meninas in Madrid, 1994
  • Visual poems from 23 Bodhisattvas by Chris Stephenson
  • Historical Punctum: Reading Natasha Trethewey’s Bellocq’s Ophelia and Native Guard Through the Lens of Roland Barthes’s Camera Lucida
  • Panic In The Rear-View Mirror: Exploring The Work of Richard Siken and Ann Gale
  • “Art has side effects,” I said.

Books

Biblio
© 2000–2023 D. Enck / Empty Mirror.
Copyright of all content remains with its authors.
Privacy Policy · Privacy Tools · FTC disclosures