Saint Avalynn
by Christian Garduno

stan getz blowing dostoevskyan solos
disbursing the future around like desolate pollen
beyond the novel, beyond the obituary
nights asunder in the City of Venice
sonatas and a satori
olden angels sorrowed in their visions and false starts
sending a telegram out to the city lights
astonished bliss atonement, all zoology blind as Homer
country hymns ululating, dharmic checks bouncing
Gabriella’s thrown her wrists up
the hyenas of hyannis are on the loose tonight
riding down the edge of a sideburn
Mardou, Chartres, and Clairvaux
with elegantless foreign arms, I am still waiting
She says she finds it easier to write me rather than to read me
Lou Gehrig whistling a savage tune in the on-deck circle
tormented by the silver key underneath the ceramic teapot on the side porch
Joannie Crawdaddy gets lickity at the lips
John Fountainsoda illuminated and Venetian blind
chasing some foggy notion over into Russian Hill
C’est pas interessant l’maudit Français
Obispo aluminum shuffling rackety shacks
Bakersfield flats uncontained by warehouses even more beater than we
McClure is sure mauve is the move
the southern part of the day meanders along like Highway #34
fishtail Cadillacs, camera shudders, sulphuric lamplights and sodium rainwaves
November moon voyant with California Burgundy
the vines never run out of wine
pour rien

PHOTO: Ocean Beach, San Francisco (Polaroid) by Nancy L. Stockdale (2008).

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I was inspired to write this poem by the mantra of “First thought, best thought.” There is little editing—it is all free-flowing, very much in the style of the original San Francisco beats writers.

Auth v1

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Christian Garduno’s work can be read in over 65 literary magazines. He is the recipient of the 2019 national Willie Morris Award for Southern Poetry, and is a Finalist in the 2020-2021 Tennessee Williams & New Orleans Writing Contest. He lives and writes along the South Texas Coast with his wonderful wife Nahemie and young son Dylan.