You can probably put all of the people who actually make a living being poets these days in a broom closet with room left over for the brooms, and improbably one of those poets is Frank Messina.
I've known Frank for years and have watched the upward arc of his career with a combination of awe and bemusement and, I suppose, a little envy.
Frank is the progenitor of "Spoken Motion," a band and concept that melds lyrical content with jazz and experimental rock music. He has received the prestigious Woolrich Prize and Playboy magazine called him "one of the most widely recognized young poets living in
But now Frank has outdone himself in going where not even Walt Whitman or Ezra Pound trod:
He has been designated the official poet of the New York Mets, which probably inevitably kismetically landed him on the front page of today's New York Times.
While Frank is one talented dude, the reason for his star turn in the Times is pretty simple: After occupying first place since early may, his beloved Mets are tanking and have fallen a game behind my beloved Philadelphia Phillies in the National League East with only two games to play.
The article includes Frank's latest poem, "Victory's Door:"
Do you know what it's like
To be chased by the Ghost of Failure
While staring through Victory's door?
Of course you do, you're a Mets fan.Sigh. More here on Frank.
Photograph by Jacob Silberberg for The New York Times