A Poem for Record Players

By John Wieners 1934–2002 John Wieners

The scene changes

Five hours later and

I come into a room

where a clock ticks.

I find a pillow to

muffle the sounds I make.

I am engaged in taking away

from God his sound.

The pigeons somewhere

above me, the cough

a man makes down the hall,

the flap of wings

below me, the squeak

of sparrows in the alley.

The scratches I itch

on my scalp, the landing

of birds under the bay

window out my window.

All dull details

I can only describe to you,

but which are here and

I hear and shall never

give up again, shall carry

with me over the streets

of this seacoast city,

forever; oh clack your

metal wings, god, you are

mine now in the morning.

I have you by the ears

in the exhaust pipes of

a thousand cars gunning

their motors turning over

all over town.

6.15.58

John Wieners, "A Poem for Record Players" from Selected poems, 1958-1984, published by Black Sparrow Books. Copyright © 1986 by John Wieners. Reprinted by permission of the John Wieners Literary Trust.

Source: Selected poems, 1958-1984 (Black Sparrow Books, 1986)

Biography

Born in Boston, poet John Wieners received a BA from Boston College and studied at Black Mountain College with Robert Creeley, Charles Olson, and Robert Duncan. He later followed Olson, his mentor, to SUNY Buffalo. A Beat poet and member of the San Francisco Renaissance, Wieners was also an antiwar and gay rights activist. His poetry combines candid accounts of sexual and drug-related experimentation with jazz-influenced . . .

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