[lit-ideas] Re: A Poem for Irene's black mood
- From: "Andy Amago" <aamago@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Sat, 30 Sep 2006 13:35:40 -0400
So everything that goes on in the world is a consequence of my black mood?
There's something Christian about that idea, one person dying for everyone's
sins. Andy the Almighty, has a ring to it. Thanks for the poem. Happy talk
henceforth ...
Speaking of original sin, let me tell you about my snake. I was walking down
to get my mail and I see something that looked like a pretty long twig lying on
the driveway, kind of like two twigs together parallel to each other. I
approached it and saw it was a snake. It was all black. It wasn't moving, so
I gently poked it with my foot to see if it was alive. It still didn't move,
so I figured the neighbor's dog had killed it. She's left me dead animals
before to clean up. (She also tore open a bag of used cat litter in my garage;
I have to keep it in the laundry room now.) Anyway, I went back to get a snow
shovel and hoe to pick up the snake and throw it under a tree. I positioned
the snow shovel and hoe under the snake and started to ease the snake onto the
shovel. Just as I was doing that, the thing came to life. I quick finished
scooping it up and threw it on the lawn where it did a classic snake lunging
pose at me, kind of standing up with its first six inches
or so, kind of curled, and shooting its tongue out at me and hissing. I
think it was just sunning itself on the driveway and I woke it up. I said,
geez, that's gratitude for ya, I just didn't want you to get run over, that's
all. It just kept hissing, I guess it didn't like getting poked. It's too bad
that religion has us brainwashed that snakes are evil. Snakes are good, some
even think they're beautiful, and they keep down the rodent population. I
think in India the hunting of snakes for their skins caused an explosion in the
rodents. Cats are good for keeping down rodents too, and keeping down snakes
...
Thanks for the poem, Lawrence. I appreciate all your efforts at cheering me
up. What I need is a pair of rose colored glasses, that's all, to stop looking
at all the reality, which I can't stop myself from doing. Who really needs a
poem I think is Julie ...
----- Original Message -----
From: Lawrence Helm
To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Sent: 9/30/2006 12:42:06 PM
Subject: [lit-ideas] A Poem for Irene's black mood
Leg Kicking Dreams of a Mongrel Dog
5-21-86
It is so hard to take my meaningless dream
Out like this upon a page, trotting it out
Like some mongrel pup that doesn't quite mean anything,
But there it is staring back with utmost disregard
Of all propriety and dignity, quite capable
Of creating a stench before your very eyes:
The rose arbor of Banning Park shelters,
Now, napkins, cans, cigarettes and straws,
And countless days bearing this abuse
Till I repudiate my roots and wrench
Loose seeking a path where my boot won't
Trod upon another's print nor my steps be heard.
There is a violence in such tearing loose
(Bespattered fountains and litter-lined walks,
Though there be, and the click click of metal heels
And challenging looks) ah what it would cost
To change it all -- I could not pay.
It is better far to seek some other way:
There was a misting rain one day
High on Smith Mountain, and I ran
To see the center of a mild storm.
All was clean up there, and slick
Such that a rock that slipped away
Might lose itself in the sound of leaves.
I left it there in the deep coolness
Sending up steam to blend with the mist.
Running back then, I could not sustain
That purity, nor could it sustain me.
There must be another me treading upon
Some other path, ah me, down there.
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