(“Dog pack in a line”–image provided by DWB)
(Note from Leila–I want to thank Dale for classing up the place this week and assure everyone that you will see plenty more of him in the future; his next appearance is scheduled for 4 June, next Wednesday. Please check out his work, especially in his field of “Fictional Essay” which is not a contradiction, on Literally Stories UK.)
“All those flowers that you never grew – / that you
wanted to grow / The ones that were plowed under – /
ground in the mud – / Today I bring them back / And
let you grow them / Forever.” – Bob Kaufman
“I drifted down deep / In sleep on my open book. /
At once a marvelous vision took / My dreaming mind away…”
– Geoffrey Chaucer, The Book of the Duchess
“Hark how the Mower Damon sung, / With love of Juliana
stung!” – Andrew Marvell, “Damon the Mower”
“Nicodemus saith unto him, How can a man be born when
he is old?” – The Gospel According to Saint John
When Samuel Taylor Coleridge met William Wordsworth, he realized very
quickly that there was only one William Wordsworth, and there would only ever
be one William Wordsworth – forever.
***
Ted Berrigan’s tombstone says, “Nice to See You.” Ted also said in a poem,
“I don’t feel / a necessity for being a mature person in this world. I mean / all the
grown-ups in this world, they’re just playing house, all / poets know that.”
In another poem Ted said: “I’m only pronouns, & I am all of them, & I
didn’t ask for this / You did / I came into your life to change it & it did so & now
nothing / will ever change / That…”
***
Two American writers 2,100 miles apart in different towns at different
places and different locations both rescue the volumes Sandburg wrote about
Lincoln from dusty obscurity in the places they rescue them from, never knowing,
of course, that the other was doing this too, 2,100 miles away, until they find out
about it later. Carl Jung called such a happening synchronicity, and I call it literary
synchronicity, of the highest kind.
***
The following poem is written for the children still among us, or rather the
young inside at whatever age we are, like Bob Dylan’s album Christmas in the
Heart, all year long.
***
Hunter S. Thompson’s friend and occasional writing partner Warren Zevon
died two weeks after releasing an album called The Wind which opens with a song
called “Dirty Life and Times.”
In that song, Zevon says, “Now they’ll hunt me down and hang me for my
crimes / If I tell about my dirty life and times.”
***
This is a world
where things of lesser value,
made with lesser efforts,
all get equal time; and that
crushes the precious gems
down into the dust.
Two Siberian Huskies, the Foggy Haunted Deer,
and the Pitbull Sidekick in Foggy Illinois, 12/28/’24
Or: Dogs and Deer Poem
For Leila Allison
All three dogs in their harnesses strain and pull
against their leashes, they pull and strain toward
the deer herd as we walk together at Christmas
season, three black and white dogs, and I.
Boo, friendly pack leader, who almost
looks like a wolf, and he looks like a wolf,
and he looks like a wolf to most, now he
leaps high into the air at the end of his leash.
Colonel, friendly hunter, lean Sancho Panza, is
serious about this, it’s maybe he who’s pulling the
hardest, it’s maybe him who would go for the kill,
hardest, if he had to, and he may have to, but not now.
Bandit, civilized lady, the queen, or the princess
some days, depending on her mood, sticks close
by my side, not here to kill deer and none of us
are, in her own soul, she’s here to protect me.
Wreathed in the unseasonal fog that drifts two
antlered deer toward us, three who appear to be
mothers holding back the three or four fawns
disappearing, or blending into the heavy thorny
branches of Christmas season thick hedge row
desolation as I strain and pull the dogs along.
In Miller Meadow along far Roosevelt Road
in urban Illinois. In the parking lot, four old
black men huddled together smoking their bud
around a trash can fire, someone’s echoing laughter
is a small boon across the gloomy, grassy field.
On his death bed, James Joyce
finally asked the first and last question
that ever occurred to him in this world
out loud, why does no one understand.
Dale W. B. lives in the Land of Lincoln.
Saragun Springs 
Dale
Truly a fine week! I will return with something far less superficial during the weekend, but you have certainly energized the Springs.
Leila
LikeLike
Leila
THANKS AGAIN for this wonderful opportunity, and looking forward to all the things which are Coming Soon in the future, too!
And of course, thank you too to all the Real Readers who visit the Springs, none of it would happen or mean anything without You!!
More later…
Sincerely,
Dale
LikeLiked by 1 person
Dale
You are welcome! Tremendous success this week. Without any sort of advertising or push of any kind, you have had close to 90 views!
Leila
LikeLike
LA
Awesome news about 90 cuz I love The Number 9! I think it was the famous song on The Beatles album that got me started, forty-something-odd years ago………
Thanks for sharing!
dale
LikeLike
beautiful lyrical words. There is magic in poetry and therefore poets are magicians. This was all magical. Thank you. dd
LikeLike
Diane
This is such a great comment about poets and poetry, can’t thank you enough for it! And thanks again for all your wonderful commentary this week; it means the world to me at every level.
Dale
LikeLike
Hi Dale
Beautiful dogs like out of a Jack London story!
Jung had it right about synchronicity. It happens a lot at the patent office. Inventors almost reaching out in a psychic link working on their similar inventions. In writing too. Sometimes I wonder when a good idea presents itself if someone else was writing the same idea, too. “Literary synchronicity,” is very apt.
These two poets are like weavers working on the different ends of the same loom. A loom of culture. I’ll have to check them out!
I think the poem that might haunt me the most (in a good way) this week is “Halloween Crow.” Flashes of a dark giddiness go through my mind. And the narrator’s voice is there now. In street language… That’s where it’s at in writing. The kind of writing that will last. Has there ever been a better title?
They are all excellent. Your work makes me want to read more poetry as long as it’s like yours! The first poem this week really set the stage for the Midwest.
This poem starts with our crushing society making products in its lackluster machine (that is against life itself) and pits dogs and deer in a dialectic force and forces within that.
I like the contrast of the dogs. They are all heroic. And it’s very touching about their wants and strong desires. “Colonel the friendly hunter,” Sancho strains to hunt. Bandit wants to protect and that may make her the most heroic. “Bandit sometimes the princess.” I like that a lot! But none are here to kill deer. The reader cares for your dogs and the deer. They care a great deal about all of this. Which is great!
This is an excellent example of defining characters, literally pulling them from the flat page, pulling them off the page into the strain of life. A birth of sorts. Like K. Vonnegut said, “Make your characters want something even if it’s a glass of water.”
Nice way to build the world with your words. “Urban Chicago, Black men around a fire, Christmas, and deer in the fog.” Strong images! There is sadness here…too. A melancholy and James Joyce asking his question. Posed at the end was brilliant.
Congratulations on a great week! It’s been highly interesting and fun!
Thanks
Christopher
LikeLike
Christopher
OMG! Your words are all awesome and I could never ask for any commentary better than this, literally you seem to “get” it all on the higher wave-length frequencies and the way in which you can boil it all down and put it into words is truly amazing and great! In other words, THANK YOU so much for all the wonderful feedback!
I’ll have more to say on your commentary because it’s all thought-provoking, imaginative and accurate and I want to respond in more detail, but right now have to go get ready for my twin daughters’ high school graduation/s ceremony in downtown Chicago, somehow they made it through not exactly with flying colors but I blame THE SYSTEM for that, NOT THEM!! The Drones in charge run that school like a prison straight out of George Orwell’s 1984 but at least my kids made it through and now the celebration! (My twins were locked up in in-school suspension at least a dozen times a piece over four years for doing things like leaving the building when you’re not supposed to….LOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Because mostly they didn’t get caught…)
Also, please make sure you see Leila’s Announcement today about future Guest Writer Weeks here in The Springs, I would LOVE to see you appearing here for an entire week in the future! Let me know you got this, if you’re interested! AND, maybe you could do a mix of poetry and short stories, or even an essay or two, any combo you come up with would be awesome! You’re a great writer and this is a great opportunity, a great offer and invitation from LA.
More later and THANKS again!
Dale
LikeLike
Hi Dale
You’re welcome! I try to give the proper respect to your work. It’s so deserving! And I thought it was high praise when you said we have a similar style. Like our hero’s” Carver, Chekhov, E. Hemingway. And for my reading pleasure I’m pretty sold on S. King and J.L.Burke (lately).
Congrats on your graduates! That school sounds bleak. “1984” says it all. So that’s an extra milestone getting through there!
I’ve read a few G. Orwell’s stories about India. “Shooting an Elephant” was powerful.
That’s a great offer! Flattered to receive it. Not sure If I could fit it in at the moment. Got a big project. I have to put on a roof.
Christopher
LikeLike
Hi Christopher!
Thanks once again for all your great attention, understanding, and verbal skills which you give to my work, it will never be forgotten and will always be returned as long as I’m on this side of the Great Divide!
Just want to let you know about two new things, poetry and prose about wild animal encounters on Saragun Springs yesterday, and today, the announcement of a new weekly Sunday column I’ll be penning (typing) for The Springs.
No need to compose lengthy commentary (or any) for every effort of mine, especially because I know you’re busy, just want to let you know about these for whenever you have time because I know you’ll enjoy it, AND understand it.
The fact that you always give such great attention to my work in this very sad Age of Pathetic Distractions is an amazing gift.
Also, look out later today for more commentary on your story “The Campground Dog” on LS, I want to return a little bit to that topic of language usage and what we have in common there, because it’s so important.
Hope All Is Well, more later!
Dale!
LikeLike
Hi Dale
Sure thing!
Yes I will check out the Sunday Column on “The Springs.” And the wild encounter!
“Sad Age of Pathetic Distractions.” Ain’t that the truth! That sounds like a good title, and certainly labels “the right now.” The Devil loves to distract to subtract souls from God’s kingdom.
Your work is very intriguing! I pay close attention, because you have a lot to teach on the craft and the craft makers alike. I really enjoy your fictional essay technique and your poetry!
These points on writing help solidify the efforts that can be enlightened upon and made stronger for the next writing session.
I finished up a kind terrible story today about a child murderer and his young son. A lot of mags and journals act like you can’t write about certain topics but I do anyway. Reality is reality.
Yes I’ll check your comments on The CG Dog. Thanks!
Peace
Christopher
LikeLike
Hi Ananias!
Thanks for checking out my stuff! And you’re right, that is a great title! It’s also a good description of too many of the people I (sadly) used to know!
And I’m glad you have the bravery, courage, grit and determination to face down all these difficult topics in your fiction. You write about this stuff in a REAL way, not a sensationalized way, and that’s the difference! So Don’t let THEM get you down! All those snowflake politically correct identity-politics mag editors who frown on you for producing these great American works about THE TRUTH IN AMERICA will be buried in the dust heaps of history with the rest of the fluff balls, while your work will continue to speak, and will grow louder as time goes on, this I know!
Maybe kinda like The King’s wife when she fished out his novel which he dejectedly tossed into the trash after probably five hundred and seventy-seven rejections of it by all the editors with blinders on…but then he found The One.
And you’re right, the one who Led Zeppelin calls The Evil One is most surely lurking around here, especially in America now, and he is tempting them, and far too many of them are blinded by his alluring lies….Not that I’m not a Sinner myself, but then again, one has to forgive one’s self, too….that was a piece of advice from an interview with Johnny Cash.
More later, and thanks again!
Dale
LikeLike