Back in da' bronx. Remember September 11, back when we were still calling it things like "The Bombing of the World Trade Center," and "The Fall of the Twin Towers? There was this joke:
"New Yawkers."
(audience answer) "Yeah."
"New Yawkers!"
(audience answer) "Yeah!"
"This means war, you know dat?"
(audience answer) "Yeah?"
"You ready fo' war?"
(audience doesn't answer)
"You ain't ready for da' bronx!"
***
Dad had his right hip replaced. He was supposed to go from the hospital into a rehab clinic. But Dad, being Dad, decided he was going to do the Maury uber-healthy thing, get out of the hospital early, and go right home. Actually, the doctors kicked him out. He's 75 and healing like someone thirty years younger. His dad once outran a forest fire for 54 miles to warn a town in Montana. Dad's not quite that, but despite some pudge has legs like tree-trunks.
***
If you're feeling happy without feeling properly guilty about being happy (and Darfur isn't ruining your sweet smile) go read Mary Jo Bang's book "Elegy." It's -almost- a great book of poems. Let's call it a minor classic. Her son died, and it turned her from a good poet to one with something to say. She was very flip and '90s once. Now she's deep.
I guess, when good people go on vacation to hell, they hide flashlights in sulphurous corners for other folk, in case we get stranded, too. Mary Jo Bang has hidden lots of flashlights.
And she still has bangs.
***
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
Yay! Good to hear things went well.
Bangs? Like as in hair?
I wholeheartedly agree. I was surprised by this book--that an emotion was in it at all. her previious works --and so many of them--were beautiful and empty like most poets of these times.
Post a Comment