Wednesday, November 2, 2022

Excerpt from THE DIRECTOR'S CUT, John Yamrus




he was 

drunk 
and more 
than a little bit crazy 

and 
made the mistake 
of leaving the live video feed 

on 
his computer open 

and when 
he was done reading his poems 

all that 
was left was this sad 

drunk 
old man 
and the sound 
of him walking from room to room 

trying 
to see where 
the magic had gone.





i

made
the mistake

of 
complimenting him 

on 
his poetry.

on
the strength

of 
one poem,
he wanted me
to introduce him to

my 
publisher.

when 
i refused,
when i said
i’m sorry, but
i just don’t do that,
he went crazy on me.

instantly,

went from

hit 
to shit.

more
than anything
he so desperately

wanted 
his fifteen minutes

of 
fame.

well...
here you go, buddy...

here 
you go.





puke-green

was 
his favorite color.  

it 
was also 
his favorite word 

(or, 
words, if
you wanted to 
get technical about it). 

anyway, 
it was kinda sorta fitting
that he had already turned his
favorite color that Sunday morning 

when 
they found him
face down under the Penn Street Bridge.





Tony The Lip

was 
older than he looked,

was 
impressed 
by the smell of his own farts,

lied 
about everything,

never 
held a job for long,

ate 
everything,

drank 
anything,

and 
changed his shorts

no
more 
than once a week.

Tony had
3 bad marriages,

4 shack-ups,

and 
that one month he
never cared to talk about.

always 
liked Tony.





you lay in bed and

there’s a train whistle somewhere
off in the distance and
it takes you back 
to a place and 
a time you 
don’t
even care to remember 
where it was or
when. 

back to a place with dirty sheets 
and dust in the corners and 
under the bed and you 
start thinking about 
why and who and 
where and 
how 

and you know it doesn’t really matter 
because there will always be trains 
and beds and sheets and the sun 
coming up as you wait 
for another day 
that’ll bring you that much closer to
whatever it is that’s out there, 
waiting to
finally 

do you 
in.





in dog obedience class…

for once, 
my little Abby
did everything right.

for 
once, 
she didn’t 
bite, jump or pull.

this time
she paid attention

and sat 
and stayed

and came
and listened…

just like all the other dogs.

i can’t tell you how much
i hated 
that.





he was 

drawn 
to this bit 
of graffiti he saw 
written in white paint
on the side of a building. 

it was 
in an alley, 

and it read: 

“fuck the world – 
and fuck you if you don’t love it.” 

later that week, 
looking to get the words just right, 

he 
went back, 

and 
when he 
got there, it was gone – 

not 
just the words

and 
the wall, 

but 
the whole 
damn building. 

torn down. 

gone. 

and, fuck you if you don’t love that.





These poems can be found in John Yamrus’ recent collection: SELECTED POEMS, THE DIRECTOR’S CUT (Concrete Mist Press, 2022), available for purchase here.


In a career spanning more than 50 years as a working writer, John Yamrus has published 35 books (29 volumes of poetry, 2 novels, 3 volumes of non-fiction and a children’s book). He has also had nearly 3,000 poems published in magazines and anthologies around the world. A book of his SELECTED POEMS was just released in Albania, translated into that language by Fadil Bajraj, who is best known for his translations of Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Bukowski, Ginsberg, Pound and others. 
A number of Yamrus’s books and poems are taught in college and university courses. His most recent book is SELECTED POEMS: THE DIRECTOR’S CUT (Concrete Mist Press, 542pp).

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