NEW
MacArthur Park
Jose Padua
When I was a kid I thought
that the greatest record ever made
was the 1968 mod orchestral rendering of
of Jimmy Webb’s lost love opus, MacArthur Park.
For me, MacArthur Park was a flash of wisdom, an epiphany a...
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A Portrait of America in Trash
Jose Padua
I give to you a portrait of America in trash.
I give it to you with love and respect, America:
mountains of beer cans crumpled, plastic figures
with fallen action, black velvet portraits of Elvis
with...
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Democracy in America
Jose Padua
If Connie is short for Constance is Bon-
nie then short for Bonstance? Was the proper
name, then, of the bank robbing team of the
3...
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The Autobiography of My Memory
Jose Padua
The earliest memories I have are a morning
when I was four or five in 1962 or
1963, putting on my shoes in our old
apartment on “S” Street before going out to play,
standing on the cobblestones in Williamsbur...
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Ruby, My Dear
Jose Padua
I could write a poem about Thelonius Monk by saying how he bent
notes, or how Uri Geller bent spoons, how his jagged rhythms took
you by surprise, how it’s hard to believe these phrases, or by tryin...
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Flesh and Memory
Jose Padua
When I moved to New York I got a job with Nice Titties/Show
Us Your Cock magazine. We were the competition and I wrote
the captions. Whenever the Village Voice used the phrase “post-
modern urban griot deconstr...
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Downtown from the Avenue of the Americas
Jose Padua
I am not the Avenue of the Americas;
I have never been topless at Billy's Topless—
no one in Manhattan ever called the Avenue of the Americas
the Avenue of the Americas we called it Sixth Avenue.
https://youtu.be...
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