The Industrial Disease [Lyric Poem]

The runs of an old mill at Vickery Creek Park in Atlanta.
I heard the last gasp and wheeze 
of Industry's fatal disease.
Why would we need any workers?
We don't need factories!
We'll grow it all from nanobots
in a closet where you please.
There'll be a 3-D printer, printing
printers endlessly.
You won't hear another mention
of Industrial Disease.
The question is not how or where
to make it, that'll be a breeze.
The question on economist's minds...
that strains their expertise.
Is how will slobs who have no jobs
pay for their indices?

The Deeps [Lyric Poem]

Big Creek in Vickery Creek Park, Atlanta.
A jutting rock
splits the river,
diverging streams
never wither,
but speed around --
smoothly flowing,
still gaining speed --
never slowing,
until they reach
the deeps.

BOOK: “Cajun Night Before Christmas” by Trosclair

Cajun Night Before Christmas (The Night Before Christmas Series)Cajun Night Before Christmas by Trosclair
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Publisher Site — Pelican Books

As it happens, I was just in New Orleans during Christmas and stumbled onto this book, which is well regarded regionally but pretty much unheard of beyond. It is essentially the poem “A Visit from Saint Nicholas” (a.k.a. “Twas the Night Before Christmas,”) but conveyed in the Cajun dialect, featuring a Santa that is a bit scruffier and who is transported by alligators rather than reindeer. It adds a bit of humor as well as regional flavor to the poem. As one would expect, it’s illustrated in the style of a children’s story book.

If you find yourself in bayou country during the holiday season, I’d highly recommend you give it a read.

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Lake Ice [Lyric Poem]

Sun-sparkles on the lake’s far end
look icy cool beneath blue skies,
but Winter shivers, I suspend,
because late Spring is telling lies.

Passing Buddha [Lyric Poem]

The train is speeding down the line.
Gold Buddha glints in the sunshine.
Jarring is the train whistle’s whine,
we plunge into a dark tunnel.

Green Hills [Lyric Poem]

So many hills I have seen
That grow so soft and thick and green.
Though jagged rocks sit down below
The grass and shrubs and weeds that grow
Through cracks and gaps, in mud patches --
Sprawling wide from tight-knit batches
That stone cannot constrain or kill.

BOOKS: “The Suppressed Poems of Ernest Hemingway”

The suppressed poemsThe suppressed poems by Ernest Hemingway
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Available online – Public Domain

I read this book because my curiosity was piqued by a reference to poems Hemingway published in Der Querschnitt, a reference that was made in a biography of Hemingway I’ve been reading recently (Forty-Three Ways of Looking at Hemingway by Jeffrey Meyers.) Five of the seventeen poems in the book are from Der Querschnitt. (Ten of the poems were published in a book entitled Three Stories and Ten Poems and a couple are odds and ends.)

The Der Quershnitt pieces are bawdy by 1920’s standards, though not particularly for today. The other poems can be a bit intense, dealing in subjects like death in war (Champs D’Honneur,) suicide (Montparnasse, and a curse upon literary critics (Valentine,) but tend to be a bit more refined (excepting Valentine. which may be the least elevated of the collected poems.)

The poems include a mix of lyric, free verse, and prose poem, though all are fairly short (the longest, The Soul of Spain, fits in three pages.)

My favorite was a short lyric poem entitled The Age Demanded, which considers the paradox of the 1920’s as a progressive age, restrained. I also found T. Roosevelt to be fascinating because in the act of critiquing Teddy Roosevelt, Hemingway (wittingly or not) gives us a bit of autobiography. (i.e.“And all the legends that he started in his life // Live on and prosper, // Unhampered now by his existence.”)

I give Hemingway more credit for saying interesting things by virtue of being bold than for saying anything in a particularly interesting way, but it’s enough to make these poems worth reading.

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Surrender [Lyric Poem]

Let the flood sweep 
one away — out
of the shallows,
into the deeps.
Don’t ever cry;
Don’t ever weep;
Just feel the speed
Carry one on.

The Fray [Lyric Poem]

Rainy December day
blows in - not long to stay.
From season to season,
without any reason,
sometimes we feel the fray.

Autumn [Lyric Poem]

The chill is here.
The sky never
bluer.

The colors turn,
with leaves ever
fewer.

Until a last
hanger-on yields
to a weak breeze.