Waiting To Read Poem by MARINA GIPPS

Poets in different dimensions
within the same room:
One sits clapping erasers in unison
with a gregorian chant.
One from Transylvania,
tugs on his left ear as if
nodding to an unknowable
monster: the mad woman
forgetting it was a poetry reading,
entering the room
with her flowing leopard scarves
as one confused Bob
with a question mark jacket
reads his punctuated poetry.

In procession they went
like unrecognized
though highly
decorated popes:
One playing
the drums in anger
with an occasional
cymbal as escape.
Another engulfed
in enough sadness
to leave
the only belle
he ever loved, their child
drowned in a pool.
(Something his glass eye
kept him from seeing.)

Broken, the Guru
of all poetics,
waiting for his heartmeds
lost in a Denver airport-
as the very last,
drunk as usual,
(though now dead)
fell asleep
at the podium.