Nada Gordon is Coming to My City (Unofficial Welcome Poem)

and by my logic I suppose she
Nada Gordon
would be the guiding persona.

*         *         *         *         *

So Nada Gordon is forthcoming
from the coming apocalypse based on Revelation
or from where she is in her the city all the time
out having a ball with Hitler’s moustache
and nationally and internationally known poets
Charles Bernstein, Tom Raworth and a team of
stunt-double Nada Gordons.

Nada Gordon is coming down to my town
to blow that capacious global
Angie Dickinson head full of
the best dolly spit
you ever saw jiggle an eyeball
– and I can’t wait!

Nada Gordon is coming to my city
escorting a plush K. Silem Mohammad
feeding on the neck of a beautifully dark Marjorie Perloff
herself feeding on Lyn Hejinian’s Guns N’ Roses T-shirt feeding
a number of Gary Sullivans my favorite Bolshevik Super-Sharon Mesmers
in the process of feeding on Michael Magee-shaped tofu snacks.

*         *         *         *         *

My Nada Gordon has been helping
to inform dentists and dental staff
all over the world about the growing number
of buildings in an Animal Control
canary oracle and working for
their preservation

in unsafe conditions, my Nada Gordon
demands extraterrestrial light rail transit
over and powered by the unstuck wind

My Nada Gordon spent an awful lot of time
celebrating you feeling your SAD coming on.

And yet, she has the time to come to my city!

*         *         *         *         *

when I was a kid
I had a little transistor radio that I’d put under the table
whenever all the blueberries fell out of it
and my Nada Gordon
would help me gather the blueberries
and push them back in
and we’d get back to listening to
an NPR show about growing organic blueberries,
both holding the biggest and ripest blueberries
as far into our ears as they would go
to get the full effect of their blueberry subtext decoder properties.

*         *         *         *         *

One time,
My Guapo
Was Gone Good!

And my Nada Gordon
Got it back from the guapo thief
Along with a coupon for more quapo.

*         *         *         *         *

My Nada Gordon kind of sneaks up on you
like a weird dream while your driving
or an apathetic Jesus Christ just after
tweaking who heals everyone he sees
driving healthcare practitioners and
insurance executives into backruptcy
or retail.

*         *         *         *         *

Your Mind, Pieces of Pipers,
Mamas Remember Shit
& The MuchoMuchoPersia
are playing in my city –
which is cool.

But Nada Gordon is coming to my city
as part of a single unedited sequence
and I feel compelled to chew
White Ice Mint Nicorette gum in her presence.

*         *         *         *         *

Where is my city?

My City is in each of its likelihoods nowhere
near the largest jolt in an unusual Frances McDormand
festival-caliber ice sculpture.

My city’s more or less Buck Rogers “rehabilitated”
cleaning Flash Gordon under duress
with levers and Hot Tattoo hoses

my city is my city of Philadelphia where i grew
a Double-tailed Dog into a clean-shaven face
PASSING THROUGH a spine when soaked
in an rain-proofing epoxy of your Emo kids

I VE HAD a TIME OF MY LIFE in my city
waiting for Nada Gordon come to my city
learning it takes only 30 minutes to build
Model Purgatory in Bat vision

Thelonious Monk is Coming on the Hudson
Bruce Springsteen is in his City of Ruins
meanwhile I’m in my city waiting
for Nada Gordon come to my city
While My Guitar Gently Wrecks

And I think I’m Going to Scream from my mouth
and nose until my city color is the
Color of Autumn-to-Midnight
Until Nada Gordon is in my city!!!!!

*         *         *         *         *

I sure wish I had a Nada Gordon is coming to my city
support group here in my city, but
Daddy Don’t Live in that Paranoia Blue Paper Boat Canyon No More.

*         *         *         *         *

I had a dream Nada Gordon and some Realtors
we’re in my city in a 1930’s house surrounded by a pasture
oozing a desire for personal CHRISTMAS water-skis shots
all the while writing Hair into the Honey Rave-wear.

*         *         *         *         *

I claw my way
into being the petals and emblems
of A Martian signal.

I am entranced by the Death and Life
of scents in wildlife-scented scent sacks.

I pray out to whoever is there,
“Oh, electrified grid of being
whose Home is In The Hills
which themselves are Home to
Miso irregularly & so-so tirey tracks
Please, Gimme Sherry on my Jacket 32
The not so grand part of a minor Piano
And bring Nada Gordon to my city!!!”

*         *         *         *         *

good-looking people of New York
I’m not sorry I want your hair to fall out,
your teeth to turn to a bitter honey
you can’t never ever spit out or get
sucked out through a liposuction tube.
I consciously hope your skin becomes
an oatmealey paste that pigeons descend upon
and get stuck in and then I want you to read in Elle
or on WebMD that the only cure is sucking pigeon ass.

Oh, once good-looking people of New York
who suck pigeon ass in a vain attempt
to return from pigeon-covered paste creatures
back to good-looking New Yorkerness,
if you think you’re fucked now,
things are about to get even worse for you –
for Nada Gordon is leaving your city
and coming to my city!

*         *         *         *         *

Hey, haircut wonder
in a Bon Iver-like folk act from Williamsburg,
if I were a smelly hermit
I’d look way too sexy on your mom.

But that’s beside the point,
For Nada Gordon is coming to my city!!!!

*         *         *         *         *

Soon, when all the airbrushes
throughout the night in New York
airbrush Stadium SUPER Trucks
and BIGFOOT Monster Trucks
over top an airbrushed ruin of
St.Mark’s Church in New York City
Nada Gordon will be in my city!

*         *         *         *         *

east Fort Worth and Arlington
don’t look for Nada Gordon in a local Walgreen’s

guys on Crabs Guys on Boats in the Ocean
don’t look for Nada Gordon in your nets

If you’re in the Motor City,
driving around with Iggy Pop
in a Chrysler 300, understand this –
At the time Nada Gordon is in my city
She will not be in your city!

*         *         *         *         *

Everybody’s Got energy, enthusiasm, anger and laser-like
Crooked Endless Beauty To Hide Except Me
And My Nada Gordon –
we’ve got all that double
like sweet veils of mercy
staining falafel scraps
over and over.

*         *         *         *         *

There is always wind (i.e. a moving air mass)
There is always dancing (i.e. a moving)
There is always a certain kind of Love Touch
that sends you running.

There is always someone saying
it’s none of your business what happened
in Australia.

There is always some Pretender Neil Young
resistant to doing Siouxsie & the Banshees covers
no matter how nice you ask him.

There’s always someone desperately trying
to extract a trombone from a fence after a snowy night.

There’s always someone Dancing Dirty
in a Nasty Sydney Mandarin Singapore Hotel.

There are always Some Other Deaths of the world
enumerated in an unordinary audio guide thesis
about a luxury hotelier goblin.

That happens every day
constantly with such predictability
that even the sweet faces of the children
with anal glaucoma staring back at you
from the donation can leave you numb.

But Nada Gordon is coming to my city!

And that doesn’t happen every day
unless every day is March 26, 2013!

Leave a comment


  1. It was a pleasure to meet you

  2. The pleasure was all mine! And thanks so much for bringing Nada Gordon to the KWH. She was terrific! Philly may not be NYC, but NYC does not have the KWH (actually, with April 1 coming up, that would be an interesting spoof piece – an announcement that Penn’s KWH is moving to NYC “to be where the real action is”). There really is something very, very special happening there. Like next week – Maggie Sullivan and David Kirby on back-to-back nights? That’s incredible! But it’s not just the great readings. I don’t know…there just a vibe you can feel bristling in the air over there. I actually was back there last night (Wednesday) for the monthly open-mic reading. I mean, where else can you go as someone who writes, but doesn’t necessarily have “the ambition to become a writer” (which, to me, is separate from “the ambition to write things”) and be able to preface your reading by saying “this piece is an existentialist game-show performance piece inspired by Jorge Luis Borges and Monty Hall” and perform the poem and have people actually like it? (FWIW, the piece is here: ) Hope to see you again at KWH.


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