Please check out my poem "Grandfather Dollar Rides the American Express Down Past Collection St. to the Poorhouse" over at Drunk Monkeys. Thanks to the editor, Matthew Guerruckey, for his kindness, and for the opportunity to have an unorthodox piece of poetry read by the world. Today, so few publications are interested in poems that exceed one page.
Last autumn, I wrote "Grandfather Dollar" in a pocket-notebook on the job, working as an art seller in Northern California. Between prospective customers, there was a substantial amount of downtime, particularly on week-days. I was inspired by the maze of reproductions. There was one in particular, a large photograph, that showed Yankee Stadium (circa 1950-ish) and a group of little boys out front, holding their baseball mitts. This set me thinking about one of my favorite themes, generations, and "Grandfather Dollar" is the result.
If you enjoy, spread it around, please.
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