Gotta have a voice for poetry, not just an ear. I start out this afternoon playing some selections that just don’t make it and go hunting for free Allen Ginsberg and find some at Allenginsberg.com. I play C’mon Pigs of Western Civilization Eat more Grease and H.o.p., left cold by my earlier selections elsewhere (so was I) listens, caught up by Ginsberg’s voice.
He gets it as only a 7 year old can.
“MMMMMMMMM,” he says after a few seconds.
“MMMMMMMMMM. Yummmmmmmmmmm,” he says, eyes bright, looking at me like, hey, I get this.
And I’m thinking, well, he’s seven, he’s not going to get the point of this listing of foods, one after another, the gluttonous grotesqueness of it all with Ginsberg gushing gourmet greedy. I just smile and nod my head.
“MMMMMMMMMM. Yummmmmmmmmmmmm,” he says again, enthusiastic.
Then suddenly he switches about mid way through. Around the time we hit, “Rice.” Just before we hit, “Rice.”
“Ewwww. YUCK!” he says, every bit as enthusiastic, big grin.
Yes, I go back and listen again and it was exactly half-way through, right before, “Rice” that H.o.p. switched and said, “YUCK! EEEWWW!”
I figure that’s enough Ginsberg for a seven-year-old for a day. Time for Gumby. He has been studying Gumby for several days now, watching the clips over and over with clay in hand, shaping forms as he watches the Gumby forms shaped. Pillars, balls, pyramids, cubes. And we now have several Blockheads. And Gumbys. And Prickles.
He was once a little green slab of clay,
You should see what can Gumby can do today,
He can walk into any book
with his pony pal Pokey too.
If you’ve got a heart
than Gumby’s a part of you!
“Is Gumby a part of me?” H.o.p. asks.