*WE’VE COME FOR YOUR HULLABALOO IN KALAMAZOO*
On the jukebox, Doc Spock’s “the blueb error-erry ferry blues”
is akin to the collapse of calm: Floor space for typos to boogie.
In a beer-soakt slog, I’m dancing on a wet dollar bill—Another
coming stomachache for ginger ale. Then, just as Steven Cleve
-land slurred “Crazinezz,” the B-52s lobster-popped the juke. It
’s like getting the hiccups while walking a tightrope—About as
cockamamie as Cheney Dick, it’s some serious wilderwildness.
“--Please!” the V.P. shriekt, “Someone’s gotta know—At least
once in her life, did Farrah Fawcett ever sing ‘Frère Jacques’!?”
[Holy moly. Everything’s weird; let’s act normal & get noticed.]
• • •
“HULLABALOO” comes from farming phrases collected over time, then finding space for them. The Bisco poem came from just what it says: Show > Water Whirl > Poem. Why not? For the setlist that night, a quick Google shows they played “Mirrors,” “Rivers,” “The Tunnel,” and “The Great Abyss.”
Paul Siegell is the author of three books of poetry: wild life rifle fire (Otoliths Books), jambandbootleg (A-Head Publishing) and Poemergency Room (Otoliths Books). Born on Long Island, educated in Pittsburgh, employed in Orlando, Atlanta and now Philadelphia, Paul is a marketing copywriter and a senior editor at Painted Bride Quarterly. He has contributed to Apiary, Black Warrior Review, Rattle, and many other fine journals. Kindly find more of Paul’s work at ReVeLeR @ eYeLeVeL.