no subject

my friend wrote me an
email and she had
no subject written in
the box at the top.
and when i saw no subject
I felt good
because right away i realized
that would be a good title for a
book, or maybe a poem.

this is the poem that i sat
down to write.
i sat down in the kitchen,
my laptop on the table
and i started writing.
i still have my headphones on my head.
i was watching a movie on my laptop,
and then i saw this one scene that just
made me stop the movie and start writing.

the scene was this:
Pablo Picasso,
in a room, painting.
the film is The Mystery of Picasso.
my friend gave it to me and it's one
of those great gifts,
so great that i will be forever grateful
for the gift.

so Allen, thank you.
and Pablo, thank you.
and let's not forget the filmmaker:
Henri-Georges Clouzot.
and thank you to my laptop,
my old Dell,
for i could not
at this precise moment
carve these words into the Internet
if not for this machine.

there's another poem right there:
if not for this machine.
i could just write that poem inside
this poem. a poem inside a poem.
that's probably been done before.

now i'm just playing around with ideas
and words.
and i guess that was my goal.
seeing Pablo in the film, painting,
having fun,
getting lost in the work--that
made me want to do the same.

and i think it was also the email
that my friend sent me.
the "no subject" email.
in the email she wrote about
things such as art and playing around.
and those things went into my head
and Pablo fortified these things,
all of which has led me to this.

this no subject poem that i've
written on my blog.
i wrote if you
and i wrote it for me
but mostly i wrote it for you.
i don't think i'll ready this poem too
often. but you might read it this year
and next year and maybe the one after.
poems sometimes get sticky like that.

this morning i was up at 3:30.
another good early morning,
and one of my first thoughts,
as i lay in bed was:
i need a poem to help me out of bed.
(there's another poem title right there)
but i was being serious.
i was tired and foggy and i wanted
John Giorno to help me out of bed.
but John was on my computer
and my computer was turned off.
so i had to get myself out of bed.
so now I'll listen to John recite
"Thanks For Nothing"
and i'll think about life and New York City
and i'll not worry about this poem
even though i didn't do spell check
or even proofread this
baby.