What's Lost is Found (on the internet)

A Behrle-esque website called American Poetry Dot Biz, which features a large picture of some kind of McRib-y thing in front of an American flag on its homepage, does not seem, at first glance, to promise any treasures. But wait! Treasures only appear where they are not promised!

John Wieners' terrific and terrifically melancholy first book, The Hotel Wentley Poems, has been posted there in its entirety. The book was composed in a week following a break-up with a long-time lover, and boasts some of Wieners' best and best-known poems. Unsurprisingly, the display and layout of the poems on American Poetry Dot Biz is less than ideal (i.e. straight-up ugly) but it’s good to have these out-of-print poems available again, for readers new and old. Here’s a stanza from “A poem for early risers:”

It is not doors. It is
the ground of my soul
where dinosaurs left
their marks. Their tracks
are upon me. They
walk flatfooted.
Leave heavy heels
and turn sour the green
fields where I eat with
ease. It is good to
throw them up. Good
to have my stomach growl.
After all, I am possessed
by wild animals and
long haired men and
women who gallop
breaking over my beloved
places. Oh put down
the vanity man the
old man told us under
the tent. You are over-
run with ants.