[lit-ideas] Re: In the Sea
- From: david ritchie <profdritchie@xxxxxxxxx>
- To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Wed, 25 Apr 2018 21:48:16 -0700
On Apr 25, 2018, at 8:15 PM, Lawrence Helm <lawrencehelm@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx>
Thanks for the comments, however . . . I was a “free diver”; which means I
dived after fish holding my breath. I never used tanks. My kids would play
in tide pools while I would go in with wet-suit, mask, spear-gun and a float
with a sack suspended from it to hold the fish, coming back in after spearing
some fish. In those days I’d have a beer, warm up and go back in.
Eddies were a constant state in the rocks and tide pools. The best places to
go out were over some mostly-smooth stones. The same for coming in. These
were the days of my first wife who stayed on the shore with the kids. We did
not communicate well.
I reread the poem several times and still don’t dislike that line. It might
be too esoteric however, requiring one to be another free-diver or . . . know
my first wife. ;-)
See, this is why a list is good.
And, turn and turn about, here’s tonight’s vulnerable stuff:
What the fuck is a phone?
I mean I used to know.
A pay-as-you-go con-see-quence.
Boys stood in a red box and pressed button B.
Mother often spent too long on the home one;
you could read Dad’s annoyance,
but it was she who always reminded us
any time we wanted to call a friend
or pick up the apparatus
that every minutes counts
and father was paying the bill.
I crossed eventfully to America,
where local calls were without charge,
(what, after all, is the point of a revolution)
and sometimes the wall phones had fifty foot cords.
It still cost money to phone home,
Then came the extraordinary moment when my sister called from the road outside
my father’s home,
way beyond a phone cord’s reach.
The cell had been invented.
Her company was paying.
Since then, in my view, there have been many wonders,
but social decay has been the order of the day.
In the moments before class students once talked.
Like what an old concept that is.
They’re all buried behind tombstone-like phones,
contacting others like the dead calling the dead.
Mary Baker Eddy I think it was who installed a phone in her coffin
just in case she needed to get in touch.
From the dead.
I suggest to my students that they might talk to one another.
They comply, awkwardly, smiling indulgently and what the fuddy duddy said.
Silly old git.
Born before phones.
No knowledge in his bones.
Ignorant as a wrap.
No idea what rap’s about.
Should I tell them things I know
to take a peek
behind the veil
to look it all up…
to put down their
It’s all there.
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