Friday, March 21, 2008

More From the Not So Distant Ark-hives

[There Is No Love But Puppies]

Pamela down the street, no,
Up and down the stairs—
Yes, it was Love,
Yes, we were 9,
Of course, we would marry.
My lunch box I kicked for her
Up and down the street,
Up and down the stairs, &
Up and down the Vast Appalachian Trail.
“I will die for you,” I said,
“Like Daniel Boone in Booneville,
Like Mickey Dolenz in Clarksville,
Like that three-time loser Henry in fields of clay.”
“Do I care?” she said. “My ribbons
Are orange. I am a Brownie,
I am no Appalachian Fairy.
I’ll sell you my cookies, but only
AFTER we say grace. You
Say grace, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course,” I said,
Fingering the orange ribbon,
Or was it pink?
Or brown?
The beanie, I know,
Was felt.
Brown felt.
Wet in the rainy day,
It stank. It was clipped
In place, until it unclipped &
Fell to black wet ground,
& then ribbons,
& then tears.
It was our last,
The very last,
The only last stanza
Of our holy days.

(Poem written on ribbon, front and back. Thanks to Enedina Vasquez and Mary Earle)

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7 Comments:

Blogger San said...

I love this beribboned monument to puppy love, Paschal. Reminds me of a certain Chester in my remote past.

11:18 AM  
Blogger Lee said...

Ah! Remember that workshop well. Also remember the poem. It is lovely. Brings back images of childhood. Yes, I was a Brownie at one time. :)

Wish they'd hold another one of those poetry workshops. Don't you?

Peace!

11:33 AM  
Blogger San said...

P.S. And it's so hard to resist a girl in uniform.

;-)

12:03 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Ms San: 9 year old Scorpios take marriage quite seriously: our romance in Frankfurt, Germany was splintered by the US Army sending our families off in different directions. I spent a summer out at my grandparents' ranch, haunting an empty mailbox, pobrecito, que lastima.

Ran across Ms Pamela back here in SA, 13 years after the European demise. Something missing, without that Brownie felt.

Here's to the Chesters and Pamelas out there, in and out of uniform.

12:33 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Lee: It was a great workshop. Ms Mary and Enedina need to come back again. Lots of poets lurking at the Rec.

12:34 PM  
Blogger alt said...

I love the shield-maiden cry of, “I am a Brownie, I am no Appalachian Fairy.” Perhaps because I was a Brownie myself, perhaps because it reminds me of a recent memory of my niece (forcefully declining my latest nickname for her by announcing her name in full, than you very much), or perhaps because it so concisely produces the full measure of her character. Nicely nice.

1:22 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

ALT: I'm thinking that Brownies must be the "real soul people" (to quote Van when he was one, too: still is in concert, it's just the damn CDs: as usual, I digress)...as I was saying, the real soul people, full-fledged devas, not a claim that can be made by girl or boy or cub scouts: it's got to be the brown uniforms: you don't get much more Gaia than that.

And nieces: it don't get much more soulful than that either, particularly when they're setting the limits on us foggy adults. My son is a fine niece in his own right.

3:39 PM  

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