JIM TRAINER'S PROSE POEM OF THE WEEK, When Mama Greenberg Curses
Personal Journalist Drinks Coffee & Pens Update From Hostile City
WHEN MAMA GREENBERG CURSES, the skies open and a trumpet rings out
In fuck-you-and-the-horse-you-rode-in on-wisdom
and donning a mantle
somewhere between Wiccan-bodhisattva and Jewish mother, she’s speaking to life and death
passing on her own mother’s love of dance and bargaining, and not always in that order.
She’s yelling Min!
on the corner of Wadsworth and Fayette
as the streetlights come up and the cops whir by. Quipping
quicker’n Dorothy Parker, always keeping their place at the table, laughing at the solemnity of sex and love
and not always in that order.
Yo. Trainer here. Guest-posting on ingénue Donna Greenberg’s older and wiser on Monday.
It is imperative and anyway of most import that you please get your tickets for July 11 at Fergie’s now. Sign up as a paid subscriber and you get in free.
See you soon motherfucker.
JIM TRAINER’S “IF I DON’T BE THERE BY MORNING” TOUR
7/7 THE IVY BALTIMORE MD has been rescheduled
7/9 STUDIO 34
7/10 TBA NYC
7/11 FERGIE’S PUB PHILADELPHIA PA
w/ Maureen Ferguson
(free letter pressed broadside of Trainer’s poem “RECURRENT” with the cost of admission)
It’s about time you took pen to skin. Got nothing else to do, so get to work.