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Gabrielle reads their poem, “Hammond B3 Organ Cistern”.


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Hi, my name is Gabrielle Calvocoressi and this is a poem "Hammond B3 Organ Cistern".  It's a new poem from me and so there's actually a typo in the picture.  It's about staying alive.

Hammond B3 Organ Cistern

The days I don't want to kill myself
are extraordinary.  Deep bass.  All the people
in the streets waiting for their high fives
and leaping, I mean leaping
when they see me.  I am the sun-filled
god of love.  Or at least an optimistic
undersecretary.  There should be a word for it.  
The days you wake up and do not want
to slit your throat.  Money in the bank.  
Enough for an iced green tea every weekday 
and Saturday and Sunday!  It's like being
in the armpit of a Hammond B3 organ.
Just wreaks of gratitude and funk.
The funk of ages.  I am not going to ruin
my love's life today.  
It's like the time I said yes
to gray sneakers but then the salesman said
Wait.  And there, out of the backroom, 
like the bakery's first biscuits: bright blue kicks.  
Iridescent.  Like a scarab!  Oh who am I kidding
it was nothing like a scarab!  It was like
bright. blue. fucking. sneakers!  I did not
want to die that die.  Oh my god.
Why don't we talk about it?  How good it feels.  
And if you don't know then you're lucky
but also you poor thing.  Bring the band out on the stoop.
Let the whole neighborhood hear.  Come on, Everybody.
Say it with me nice and slow.
           no pills            no cliff          no brains of the floor

Bring the bass back.                        no rope          no hose   not today, Satan.
Every day I wake up with my good fortune 
and news of my demise.  Don't keep it from me.
Why don't we have a name for it?
Bring the bass back.  Bring the band back on the stoop.