John Garbanzo was born in San Francisco in 1968. He has worked as a fisherman, a bartender and a short-order cook along the way to writing the poems collected in When I Scream I Scream Of You. His mentor and friend was the Spanish-American poet and film-maker Jacques Corrida (the subject of this poem).
Eating Jack Corrida
No not you, not you in fact Jacques, no
I mean your typewriter the Royal portable
you showed me when we were drunk on red wine
and grass together in your house in Venice Beach I
want to push it stuff it eat it choke on it
chew it crack it wash it down with Cal Tech crude I
yes that’s right Jacques (Call me Jack. Sure, Jack,
whatever you say) until the keys become
my teeth the cylinder my tongue the spools
my cheeks the black & red ribbon my Chinese
People’s Republic lips so I can write the poems you write
(that’s write, Jack) tender crazy surrealist magical odes
to us poor forlorn dreamers on Interstate Zero.
How was it you said? “We are all of us broken elevators
trapped between each other’s floors.” Oh you guys
had some good lines even back then I want to
eat your typewriter, eat you, tattoo Royal on my
forehead, spit out words like seeds.