-occupied rooms-

1.
In one room, Gregory Corso is talking about

the Memphis of greek mythology.

In another, I'm talking about Memphis,

Tennessee.

but,

both led to a couple of poems

and I think most poem-writers will tell you

that sometimes just a word overheard said in anger,

or an act of love or hatred, or something of discomfort,––
or of a place referred to by others

or a misplaced hand,

could travel beyond themselves,

as in a dream sequence, or the sting of a hangnail,

almost anything
could move toward the act of poem-writing.

2.
you see, I’ve never caught a fish

outside the marketplace, where

the fresh-dressed silver-glistened bodies 
are laid in state in rows by type over beds of ice.

nor have I been shot at with malice of forethought,

nor have I otherwise yet suffered,––

but

I know of others who’ve suffered,

some in my own house,

none of whom, as I recall have been shot at,

or have caught fishes outside the tense marketplace,
but –– they've spoken of places and things and so on and so forth and

well, with this convolution at an end, that said –– there's poetry all the time.