Heh, we grouchy old men do have some tales and memories. A number of women, one at a time, somehow woke up parts of me I didn't know existed. But for them, I might still be who I was before they came along. Perhaps old men, and old women, don't look forward much to coming attractions, like we once did. I tend to wake up mornings wondering why I'm still here? The Mother Ship used to abduct me and then grow tired of me and bring me back, until they figured out it wasn't worth their trouble. The Smithsonian then captured me and stuck me in a room with other grandfossils for what seemed like aeons. Then, I got lucky and sweet-talked and ruckused them into letting me out during the daytime to roam around. Lumbering toward the White House, where I'd seen on CNN and FOX were only slightly edible creatures called politicians, I snuck behind a large bush and gnawed off my right hind leg to which the zoo keepers had fastened a tracker. I've been roaming loose ever since, keeping an ever watchful eye over my hindquarters for bounty hunters.
I met Donald Hall in 1978 during the New England Literature Program through U of Michigan. He gave us students an intimate lesson on poetry and signed my book of his poems. I took a photo of him and professor Walter Clark from my cabin window facing Lake Winnipesaukee - a still of life passed. I’m not familiar with this poem but it does reflect his rapport with women during his lifetime.
Heh, we grouchy old men do have some tales and memories. A number of women, one at a time, somehow woke up parts of me I didn't know existed. But for them, I might still be who I was before they came along. Perhaps old men, and old women, don't look forward much to coming attractions, like we once did. I tend to wake up mornings wondering why I'm still here? The Mother Ship used to abduct me and then grow tired of me and bring me back, until they figured out it wasn't worth their trouble. The Smithsonian then captured me and stuck me in a room with other grandfossils for what seemed like aeons. Then, I got lucky and sweet-talked and ruckused them into letting me out during the daytime to roam around. Lumbering toward the White House, where I'd seen on CNN and FOX were only slightly edible creatures called politicians, I snuck behind a large bush and gnawed off my right hind leg to which the zoo keepers had fastened a tracker. I've been roaming loose ever since, keeping an ever watchful eye over my hindquarters for bounty hunters.
O my gosh
Poems like this that summarize entire lifetimes in a single instance like this are precious.
I met Donald Hall in 1978 during the New England Literature Program through U of Michigan. He gave us students an intimate lesson on poetry and signed my book of his poems. I took a photo of him and professor Walter Clark from my cabin window facing Lake Winnipesaukee - a still of life passed. I’m not familiar with this poem but it does reflect his rapport with women during his lifetime.
Wow, that's incredible. Appreciate you sharing.
well stated
My truth, both personally and professionally as a Consultant on Aging with a 35+ year year career in gerontology. Breath taking indeed.
This is a haunting poem.
indeed, and engrossing
Beautiful poem
very nice words here