When reading this whole thing, listen to Sidney Bechet play his Blue Horizon in order to best understand the tempo for reading. Nod to Somiah. I fell in love with my wife at first sight to this song.
A meditation on the approach of death. Or rather, not how it approaches us but how we approach it.
My father used to say that getting old is not for the faint of heart. It didn’t help that he had a faint heart. Nevertheless he pushed through to 91 by force of will because he loved being alive. If that’s all it took he’d be alive yet.
My dad’s best friend was Frank Metz. Frank is still alive and turns 100 today, July 3rd. I went to see him the day my dad died to deliver a message. The message was that Frank had won a bet he hadn’t known about. My dad figured Frank, who is two years older, would die first. Frank said look, I lost my best friend and you lost your father. How about we pick up where he left off. That was 7 years ago come Saturday July 5th. I see him or call him at least every month. I called Frank today to wish him a happy birthday. I told him I was glad he’s among the living. He laughed and said he’s glad too. Frank fought with Patton’s 3rd Army at the Battle of the Bulge and fought all the way back to the Rhine. He and my father met in art school in Philadelphia in the 40s after the war.
This one goes down easy, Wes, and Bechet on the black wood is just right for sauntering. Lots of detail, too, which means you're doing one of the most important things a poet can do: Seeing.
I'm going to carry this along with me while I'm out sauntering.
“Even the cat on my left cannot be moved into stalking that crumb snatching sparrow. So much effort in the late afternoon heat and for what, a small mouthful of feathers?” this bit really stood out to me for whatever reason.
Had you heard it before? Lento, largo, adagio- I do love a song with a strong beat, slow or fast. This is about opposite from "Sing, Sing, Sing". Thanks for reading. I really do love hamming it up to the max in a comic poem.
Sidney Bechet was marvelous!
He really was. The tempo of that song is remarkable. Takes so much skill and effort to create something with a pace like that.
Thanks for the walk through town. Lovely.
thanks Patris
Yeah man. Nice groove.
A meditation on the approach of death. Or rather, not how it approaches us but how we approach it.
My father used to say that getting old is not for the faint of heart. It didn’t help that he had a faint heart. Nevertheless he pushed through to 91 by force of will because he loved being alive. If that’s all it took he’d be alive yet.
91 is old even with a solid heart, remarkable!
My dad’s best friend was Frank Metz. Frank is still alive and turns 100 today, July 3rd. I went to see him the day my dad died to deliver a message. The message was that Frank had won a bet he hadn’t known about. My dad figured Frank, who is two years older, would die first. Frank said look, I lost my best friend and you lost your father. How about we pick up where he left off. That was 7 years ago come Saturday July 5th. I see him or call him at least every month. I called Frank today to wish him a happy birthday. I told him I was glad he’s among the living. He laughed and said he’s glad too. Frank fought with Patton’s 3rd Army at the Battle of the Bulge and fought all the way back to the Rhine. He and my father met in art school in Philadelphia in the 40s after the war.
Way to go to Frank Metz, remarkable man.
And an excellent landscape painter
He really does sound like a lovely man
My earlier comment is woefully inadequate to the level of this poem Wes. I must have been sleepwalking myself.
This is so perfectly paced and the images and words perfectly done. It evokes so much of a day in a life, awake and aware. Better than Ulysses.
And a lot shorter, mercifully. Thanks Patris
This one goes down easy, Wes, and Bechet on the black wood is just right for sauntering. Lots of detail, too, which means you're doing one of the most important things a poet can do: Seeing.
I'm going to carry this along with me while I'm out sauntering.
Thanks Paul. It is a difficult thing to do, this seeing and just seeing.
True, Wes, but many can just saunter along and never really see a thing, let alone turn it into poetry.
I love this. It like a base, a foundation that provides for the stability of emotion. Thank you for sharing.
thanks Stan, I thought you might like it.
“Even the cat on my left cannot be moved into stalking that crumb snatching sparrow. So much effort in the late afternoon heat and for what, a small mouthful of feathers?” this bit really stood out to me for whatever reason.
you were probably a cat in a previous life, or a sparrow.
Definitely a cat or lioness because I’m a Leo!
and so there is some affinity to that line. Interesting how these things tickle us.
I enjoy reading your lush perspectives! Blue Horizon has such a vibe as well!
Had you heard it before? Lento, largo, adagio- I do love a song with a strong beat, slow or fast. This is about opposite from "Sing, Sing, Sing". Thanks for reading. I really do love hamming it up to the max in a comic poem.
I don’t think I have! But I do listen to Miles Davis and John Coltrane!
Bechet was my mother's favorite but she loved all the Dixieland music. Her all time favorite group was The Preservation Hall Jazz Band
Nice! I’ll check them out.