The Life of a Poet with Jeffery Berg

So you brought a few poems for us to read.

So we're going to start right away at the beginning of the podcast with you reading one of them so people can get an idea of what is it we're talking about.

So pick a poem and let's read it.

Well, you know what? Dolly Parton just passed away.

At the moment of recording this, literally just passed away.

And I remembered that I do have a poem that invokes her.

So I'll read that one.

I'll start with that one.

Peace Train.

I moved through the 20th century breezy, like a train off track, like a dress off the rack unspooled onto the carpet of Sears.

The cashier at Tower frowned when I bought Britney Spears in 2001.

She said, stop giving this bitch money.

You are better than this.

Now the CD is cracked and worth a penny and Tower is long gone.

I took retail-worked spare change to Coinstar and turned them into maxi singles.

I laid in a tanning bed and listened to Daft Punk's Discovery.

I saw a future of violet lights and bombs over Baghdad bursting in air.

I ate McDonald's supersized meals, then switched it up to a green Dexatrim tablet and basically began to kill myself.

One day I wore a brown button-down and felt I looked nice to the barista with braces named Ben.

I sang, Ben, the two of us need look no more to the mirror and lit Pier 1 candles.

On the edge of darkness, I lit all the candles in my apartment the night my college classmates came to sell me E. I don't think that shit ever worked.

I watched Apocalypse Now and smoked with my neighbor.

The playmate's my favorite part.

Otherwise, it was just war and men, men, men.

Some songs make you feel like bursting.

So you brought a few poems for us to read.

So we're going to start right away at the beginning of the podcast with you reading one of them so people can get an idea of what is it we're talking about.

So pick a poem and let's read it.

Well, you know what? Dolly Parton just passed away.

At the moment of recording this, literally just passed away.

And I remembered that I do have a poem that invokes her.

So I'll read that one.

I'll start with that one.

Peace Train.

I moved through the 20th century breezy, like a train off track, like a dress off the rack unspooled onto the carpet of Sears.

The cashier at Tower frowned when I bought Britney Spears in 2001.

She said, stop giving this bitch money.

You are better than this.

Now the CD is cracked and worth a penny and Tower is long gone.

I took retail-worked spare change to Coinstar and turned them into maxi singles.

I laid in a tanning bed and listened to Daft Punk's Discovery.

I saw a future of violet lights and bombs over Baghdad bursting in air.

I ate McDonald's supersized meals, then switched it up to a green Dexatrim tablet and basically began to kill myself.

One day I wore a brown button-down and felt I looked nice to the barista with braces named Ben.

I sang, Ben, the two of us need look no more to the mirror and lit Pier 1 candles.

On the edge of darkness, I lit all the candles in my apartment the night my college classmates came to sell me E. I don't think that shit ever worked.

I watched Apocalypse Now and smoked with my neighbor.

The playmate's my favorite part.

Otherwise, it was just war and men, men, men.

Some songs make you feel like bursting.