Gut Punch Press 1990 ISBN 0-945144-01-6 $7.95
"Peabody's the sort of poet who
makes you want to drop names: he is to poetry what Raymond Carver
and Fielding Dawson are to fiction; he captures moments of character
as well as Louise Erdrich, reveals epiphanies of love-comprehension
and loss like Barry Gifford at his best. His imagery and language
are original, as is his humor. Peabody's poetry makes me drop words
like antidote, love goon, comic sorcery, candy kisses of pain."
Another Stupid Haircut
You wish just this once
the mirror would lie.
What was the barber
You felt ridiculous enough
carrying a Peter Gabriel
album into the shop--
visual aids never help.
You clip away with
amd soon it looks even worse.
as though the ones
who cut hair were
really Martians with
only a rudimentary
idea of what humans
are supposed to look like.
Hair like topographic maps,
tv antenna, inverted
umbrellas, poodle dogs . . .
or else the great hair
disaster of Krakatoa--
poking out in
so many directions
that only the
end of the world
will make you feel
at all fashionable.
The Fourth Stooge
When I was five I wanted to be the fourth stooge.
I wanted to be on television and hit Moe with a pie.
I wanted to say nyuk, nyuk, nyuk
and spin around in circles on the floor.
Anything was better than walking to school.
Tommy Cutler and I used to dream about throwing pies
off the top of the Empire State building,
Once, when I was older, I actually hit a kid with a pie.
He tossed me across a table. So I gave up
television and became a poet instead.
Now my every word is a soft projectile