Interview with a recently discovered poet

Pico Clyde-Sarena, for decades a remote, frazzled voice in the world of supercilious verse, has finally reached the mainstream of world literature. We were fortunate to have been granted this interview with one of the most persistent and provocative figures of our time.

Horseshoe: Why are all of your poems the same length?

Paco: It’s the size of the fecking pad, man. I bought 2000 legal pads in March and I’m already down to six or seven. I start at the top and fill space with my words until I reach the bottom…then I have lunch.

Horseshoe: So it appears you have a rigid daily discipline. Do you write everyday?

Paco: No. I only write on Wednesdays.

Horseshoe: What do you do the rest of the time?

Paco: I make plum wine. Then, three weeks later, I drink it

Horseshoe: That’s quite a combination…poems and bodegas! Do you see a metaphor here?

Paco: I see a lot more metaphors after the wine has matured. Barbie dolls on the in the roux burned like a bat-winged banter master spouting crude recollections. False prophet…False sinner, worse yet. Spoken flowers are only as good as the lover who catches the poem petal. Most miss it surely as it drifts to the ground.

Horseshoe: Wow! That’s hot. What time of the day do you prefer to write?

Paco: Right out of bed works the best. I like to smoke Nicaraguan puros while I mainline Paraguayan mate’ and scramble my oatmeal. That’s when my head is clear and my passion ignited. Some of my favorite works, however have been penned on my way to bed when my head is swirling and my dreams linger.

Horseshoe: Heavy.

Paco: No actually quite light. It’s important for an artist to give himself plenty of leisure time. That way the words flow without the distractions of the mundane.

Horseshoe: Your words are incredible and we see that you are bi-lingual as well. If I may quote from a recent work:

Las estrellas del Sur habla

a me en la noche linda .

Dicen mi nombre, su nombre bella

su nombre bella, su nombre bella.

Su alma, su corizon, su cuelo rico.

Chow dudes. Viva pax.

What do these words mean to you?

Paco: I don’t have any idea. I don’t speak a lick of Spanish.

Horseshoe: It’s kind of like telepathy, no?

Paco: Yeah sure. I can write 700 poems in one day if I drop all pretense and quality control. Most people are afraid of poetry anyway so very few get passed the first line or two. As a beautiful woman once told me: “It’s bad poetry, Paco…but keep slinging it. Sooner or later you’re bound to rhyme something.”

Horseshoe: I see you drive a 1947 Bedford Paddy Wagon. That must have cost a pretty penny.

Paco: It was a gift from one of my lovers.

Horseshoe: do beautiful women like it says in the introduction to Bruin Conspiracies besiege you? Do you read to them all?

Paco:  I can’t read. To quote the late Warren Zevon: Poor, poor pitiful me…poor, poor pitiful me…the young girls won’t let me be…poor, poor pitiful me. I wish I’d written those lines, yeah boy.

Horseshoe: Have you any advice for budding poets?

Paco: Write with crayons, that way if you get hungry you’ll have plenty to eat. Just go on a tear and hope nobody reads the stuff…It’s all perception of reality anyway. If it barks like a bird and whinnies like an ostrich then I’d suggest staying far away during mating season.

Paco will be appearing at Vegetable Buddies Bar and Grill in Manana

for a book signing and wine making symposium on May 32 unless it rains.