Norman Stock
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Norman Stock is the author of two books of poetry: Buying Breakfast For My Kamikaze Pilot (Gibbs Smith,1994), winner of the Peregrine Smith Poetry Contest, and Pickled Dreams Naked (NYQ Books, 2010). His poems have appeared in The New Republic, College English, The New York Quarterly, The New England Review, Denver Quarterly, Verse, and many other magazines, as well as in anthologies and textbooks. The recipient of awards from the Writer's Voice, Poets & Writers' Maureen Egen Writers Exchange, the Bennington Writing Workshops, and the Tanne Foundation, he has also been a Bread Loaf fellow, a Sewanee scholar, and a finalist for Poet Laureate of Queens. Formerly the Acquisitions Librarian at Montclair State University, from which he retired in 2005, he lives with his wife, Lydia Chang, a clinical psychotherapist, in Jackson Heights New York. |
The First Time I Robbed Tiffany's
blowThe first time I robbed Tiffany's it was raining. And it was dark, and the wind was
blowing. It was like the first time I had sex. The same kind of weather, the same kind of
feeling. Me and the girl in the car. Just like me and the cop in the car, after he arrested
me outside the store in the rain. I promised myself I would do better next time. Just like I
promised the girl. Just like I promised the cop. It felt like it always felt, me and the cop,
me and the girl, me and the rain, and the wind and the darkness, and the robbery I never
committed, the sex I never had, the girl I never knew, the feel I never copped, and the
rain the rain the rain was all I knew and all I will ever know.
From Buying Breakfast For My Kamikaze Pilot (Gibbs Smith, 1994).
Subway Heaven
I like the smell of the lollipops
that these Spanish women sitting next to me on the subway
are sucking as they talk in their hot sexy fast language
with their black net stockings touching against my leg
what kind of heaven have I stumbled into surrounded by these women
sucking lollipops speaking Spanish sitting next to me in the subway
leaning over letting me look and me smelling that sweet sexy candy
listening to their fast talking Spanish real hot stuff to go home with the
listthought of them
From Pickled Dreams Naked (NYQ Books, 2010).
Thank You for the Helpful Comments
I sit quietly listening
as they tear my poem to shreds in the poetry workshop
as each one says they have a "problem" with this line and they have a "problem" with
assthat line
and I am not allowed to speak because that is the etiquette of the workshop
so I sit listening and writhing while they tear the guts out of my poem and leave it
asslying bleeding and dead
and when they're finally finished having kicked the stuffing out of it
having trimmed it down from twenty lines to about four words that nobody objects to
then they turn to me politely and they say well Norman do you have any response
response I say picking myself up off the floor and brushing away the dirt while
assholding on for dear life to what I thought was my immortal poem now dwindled
assto nothing
and though what I really want to say is can I get my money back for this stupid workshop
asswhat I say instead is...uh...thank you for your helpful comments...while I mumble
assunder my breath motherfuckers wait till I get to your poems
From Buying Breakfast For My Kamikaze Pilot (Gibbs Smith, 1994).
What I Said
after the terror I
went home and cried and
said how could this happen and
how could such a thing be and
why why I mean how could
anything so horrible and how could
anyone do such a thing to us and what
will happen next and how can we live now
it's impossible to understand it's impossible
to do anything after this and what will any of us do now and how will we
tolive and how can we expect to go on after this
I said and I said this is too much to take no one can take a thing like this
after the terror yes and then I said let's kill them
From Pickled Dreams Naked (NYQ Books, 2010).
New York: Save for Later
give it a groundbreaking
give it a big cigar
give it my heart in my hand the holes in my shoes
New York, save for later, throw it all away
give it my uncle's long winded worshipping of the bitch goddess success
give it that, give it up, give it all away
you know her, New York, give her the crime of the century
my aching balls, the rabbit's foot, the fast moving metaphor
take it, take it, take it away from me
New York of the rabble, throw them in the trough eat them
you wanted them, you got them, here they all are gaping
take 72nd street, take 5th avenue, take Brooklyn
let 'em eat cake, this is New York, go break bread with the innocent
what do you care, what do you want, what do you think you will get
a fist in the face that's what, a good hard right to the stomach
fall on the floor New York, get up and be beaten again
you expected everything and you sure did get it all
New York of the towers, of the homegrown idiots, of the torn flowers
From Pickled Dreams Naked (NYQ Books, 2010).