Without a Horizon

 

The Third Issue of Lodestar Lit has my poem "Remaking Our Everyday World," inspired by seeing Northern Virginia pass by at night.

The Grace of Rosslyn and Georgetown

 

Poem in Sola Poeta's second issue, based on my days walking across the Key Bridge every day to work

Put the U in UCity Review, by Reading these Poems

 

A Ford Escape Hybrid and David Duchovny

The UCity Review, which is located in the shadow of Washington University in St. Louis, has published 11 poems of mine. They deal with a variety of topics that range from the TV show Californication, to horses, from kayaking on the Potomac to getting a dick drawn on your face.

Mentioned in the Secular Press

Happy end of July everybody. Today, I learned that I was mentioned in the Falls Church News-Press, as part of Charlie Clark's "Our Man in Arlington Column." It is part of a general review of a collection I appeared in last year focused on Arlington County, Virginia, my hometown. It was edited by Katherine E. Young, the county poet laureate. The anthology is titled: Written in Arlington: Poems of Arlington, Virginia, and it still available for sale as far as I know. It also features work from my friend Christine Stoddard.

The Worst Monument in DC

In this age of statues coming down their plinths, and places being renamed, calling something the “Worst Monument in DC” brings to mind the usual culprits. However, this monument is not bad because it honors a Confederate, a slaveowner, or somebody who did medical experiments on enslaved women. It is also not problematic like the statues honoring the Emancipation Proclamation. You know the kind: they show a helpless and shirtless Black person in chains being uplifted by a very starch-shirted Abraham Lincoln.

No, this infamous title belongs to a monument because of its aesthetics, not its politics. At least with those other kinds of statues you know what they are supposed to represent. I don’t mean on a deeper level in terms of just dog whistles, but on a surface level as well. A statue of General Robert E. Lee on a horse shows General Robert E. Lee on a horse. You can get offended by it because you know who you are supposed to think of when you look at it. One could argue a monument that’s too abstract might even be worse, because it doesn’t even let you get angry.

One such monument exists in DC. It is little known, though hundreds of thousands of people drive past it every year. Most of them hardly get a glance of it, and even fewer know that it is legally in DC, despite being on the right bank of the Potomac (in case you didn’t know, Columbia Island, that strip of land next to the Pentagon is part of DC). It is near another monument which people might recognize, but it is a hundred times better than this one. That competent monument is the Navy – Merchant Marine Memorial. The bad one? It’s called the Lyndon Baines Johnson Memorial Grove on the Potomac.

A monument to Idaho

Just the length of the name should tip you off that something isn’t right. A good memorial is succinct and named for one person, group, or event. Think the Lincoln Memorial or the Washington Monument. The Emancipation Memorial is another one, so long as we’re talking names here and not set-up. The Lyndon Baines Johnson Memorial Grove on the Potomac is the opposite of all that. It contains too much, which the same might be said for old LBJ. I doubt that was the intention though. Instead we have a confusing mess that tells us what kind of memorial it is and the river it is on. Off the top of my head I don’t think any other monument in DC has that designation.

It's not the easiest memorial to get to either. You have to drive onto the island, park, and walk a bit until you hit the right grove. But that could be said of plenty of landmarks in the city, and I won’t count that against it. The memorial to Teddy Roosevelt requires quite a hike to the middle of his eponymous island. It doesn’t detract from the way it is set up and the possible educational value of the site. I know it’s not a textbook (what monument is?), but one can at least clearly meditate on and contemplate the subject.

This is not the case with the Lyndon Baines Johnson Memorial Grove on the Potomac. There is little in the design or the artwork chosen that conveys anything about LBJ and his achievements. Approaching the memorial, all one can see through the pine trees is a large hunk of pinkish granite. No, it isn’t a statue of our 36th President, as much of a hunk he was. The granite is simply a large rock, stuck in the ground. A prurient mind might say it’s a memorial to Johnson’s Johnson, the infamous “Jumbo.” How could they know any better? The rock is not shaped, cut, etched, or hewn into anything with a recognizable pattern. It isn’t even a menhir.

Johnson's Johnson, the Jumbo of the Capitol Hill Zoo

The area around the megalith isn’t any more informative or inspiring. There’s a small sign that gives a basic outline of the memorial and its function, along with a recording of Lady Bird Johnson that doesn’t work. When I pressed one of the buttons for it, I hoped that instead I would get to hear LBJ ordering pants from his tailor. It’s more Taylor though, but it doesn’t matter anyway. The device is broken, along with many of the paving stones near the central rock.

Adjacent to it are a handful of slabs of granite, made of the same exact shade as the central stone. On each of them are selections from speeches LBJ gave during his life. None of the selections are particularly memorable or illuminating. They say little about the man himself, his times, or the issues he was championing. I know the man wasn’t the most gifted speaker, but the designers could’ve chosen something more inspiring. He had Bill Moyers to work with. Something he said after JFK was shot perhaps? Or his speeches to Congress on Civil Rights? There’s another issue with the slabs too. They are difficult to read, thanks to using that foreskin-colored granite.

At the right angle, one can get a nice view of the Potomac and the other monuments that dot the skyline of DC. It only serves to remind the unlucky visitor, of how much worse Johnson’s memorial is compared to the ones for Lincoln, Jefferson, and Washington. It makes one wonder if this is actually a site dedicated to Andrew Johnson, and that this is all a sick joke to embarrass our 17th president for botching Reconstruction and buying Alaska.

Not pictured: wasp nests

In the same park is a monument that is much better and more interesting, the Navy – Merchant Marine Memorial. It honors those who have died at sea and rare for a war memorial, it doesn’t show the people lost. No names are etched on it and no human figures are depicted. There are waves and seagulls (along with wasp nests tucked inside the waves, but those are a later addition) made of metal, sitting on a small plinth. They depict the watery resting place of those lost, and remind us that many are gone forever with no recovered remains. It also has bubbles.

Perhaps the Lyndon Baines Johnson Memorial Grove on the Potomac represents the conclusion of the memorial as traditionally understood. Our presidents are too big and contain too many multitudes of contradictions to be reduced to a statue. Constant revision of their legacy and shifts in historical opinion also make it difficult to come to any final consensus about them. In that sense the giant rocks is fitting, as the reputation of LBJ has waxed and waned over the decades. Now it appears to be waxing, in part because we are nostalgic for a time Congress and the President could work together to pass major pieces of legislation. But it will wane again, when we reconsider the costs of Empire.

Ponder these Poems at Ponder Savant

This one's a doozy, five poems at Ponder Savant. They were selected for the theme "Still Shining." It's collection involving Arlington's Columbia Pike, Ticker Tape parades, and Plato. Thanks to Mia Savant for posting them.

Going to the Dogs

Dear readers, I will give you a fair warning. This short story is technically a reprint. However, it was published several years ago, so it's probably new to most of you, right? It was published in Clever Magazine then, and it's published in Clever Magazine now. Of course, back then it was called Apex Prey, now it's called Cat and Mouse Games. It also says I live in Montclair, New Jersey. of course that's not been the case for many years now.

Three Poems in Two Journals

Three poems to add to the collection of published works by yours truly. One is in Cacti Fur and is about a view in Harlem I haven't seen in nearly a year. Two more are in Local Nomad. The recent issue is themed around the concept of temp work and the precariat experience. 

The Poems Come and Go, Including Mine

The Winter Issue 2018 of Come and Go Literary. It includes a poem of mine named Results of Service Not Found. Thanks to Nick Campanella for putting together the issue with everyone's work in it.

Poet of the Week: Christine Stoddard

My friend Christine Stoddard was interviewed by Brooklyn Poets. She discusses her life, work, and the communities she's lived in. Oh, and she mentions a young poet living in Brooklyn and who writes for this blog.

Let the Hard Times Roll (or Not)

Locust Nine is out, featuring a poem from me. There's a poem translated from Chinese as well. That's interesting! My poem, "Hard Times Cafe," is about an establishment that used to exist in Clarendon, Arlington. It served chili but I mostly went there for its happy hour specials. One night, I was there with a friend during a rain storm and we watched Arlington's attempt at Mardi Gras pass on by. It became the genesis of the poem you're about to (or already have) read.

New Poem: Gulf Branch

A new poem of mine is up at Plum Tree Tavern. It's run by Russell Streur, formerly of The Camel Saloon. It's named after a creek in Arlington. Read it, meditate on it, and drink to it.

Trump's 2020 Campaign Poster

If let's Make America Great Again could be taken from Reagan:

Then his 2020 Campaign can steal from Lyndon LaRouche:

All Hail Ben Nardolilli's Groovy Blog!

At least that's what they're saying at the Midnight Lane Gallery. Three of my poems are hung there for viewing, thanks to Johnny Longfellow.

Also two poems were published on this site based in Berlin, The Wild World. Poetry truly is international! It knows no borders except those at the end of a page or the end of a breath!

Affirmation in Cleaver, another Appearance at Trial

A poem of mine, "Affirmation" is in Cleaver Mag. According to them I am a "Cleaver Emerging Artist." I hope you agree. There are several other emerging artists in this issue as well: Elizabeth Burkhalter, Kelly R. Samuels, Olivia Parkes, Jack Wills, Sam Brighton, and Michael Fischer.

As for my work, this isn't Affirmation in the spiritual sense, though perhaps the title does play off of it. In this particular work, I'm dealing with Affirmation in a legal sense because this poem is from my legal-based cycle, "Appearance at Trial." If any of you want to read the whole thing I can email it to you!

Some of the things discussed in this poem are: conscious pain and suffering, New York, paperclips, mercantilism, trusts, Discovery Zone, the Beach Boys, cents, Dinosaurs, corpses, and Billy Shears.

Three Miscreant Poems

Three bastard poems of mine, no goodniks, little rascals, worthless to the hilt! But good enough to be posted by the Miscreant.

Super Tuesday Prayer

Come bring in the results, Super Tuesday bless us
With data, every single point and poll,
Help us color in the map, so we may know
Where our friends and enemies lie across the land,
Those towns and counties filled
With patriots and likewise political geniuses,
As well as the gulches and gullies
Populated by the cretins who can only use
Their opposable thumbs to oppose a righteous cause
But most of all, Super Tuesday, help us know
What desires and dreams are out there
In a country we have only heard rumors from,
Trade in every empty white space for blue and red,
And please, refrain from confusing us with any purple
Or results which bring no conclusion,
Just the cliffhanger of things being too close to call.

Giving Clarendon its Poetic Due

A new poem of mine is in the Fredericksburg Literary and Art Review. Oh boosters and county fathers of Arlington, Virginia, you will be overjoyed! There's a poem about Clarendon, sweet Clarendon. Land of pub crawls or marches. Borough of bars and shenanigans.

In other news, I just passed 6 million written words. That's something to be Thankful for. I suppose.

Apologies to Crown Heights

Just thinking about waiting for the train there makes my toes stick together

Two poems up in 352 Degrees, which is not the temperature of the 34th Street Herald Square station in August, but instead a small literary concern which is willing to take a risk on a young upstart like me!

Unknown Words With Ben Nardolilli

Hello everyone. I've got a new medium to share with you. SOUND. Matthew Anderson was kind enough to interview for his podcast Unknown Words.  Sit down, pour yourself a stiff one, and listen to me here.