Sometimes when I catch myself bitchin' about something trivial, like "traffic" in Missoula, I am able to think of the stories of my Depression era Dad and I want to slap myself. I don't of course. But then I think of my grandpa (on my mom's side) who was a WW1 vet, a farmer and a rural mailman and I really want to slap myself. I still don't. But now, as I prepare for a fuckin long road trip to St. Louis in 100 degree weather I will add the image of tin cans hammered flat by your grandfather to the list of things that should finally bring my palm swiftly to my face. Thanks for that. You reeled me in and I am a happy to flop around in your blog creel--no need to catch and release.
As they might have said, "Well, that's enough to make a fella want to slap his own grandmother!" But what the hell, go ahead and give yourself a good smack, you deserve it! Heh, heh
What puzzles me is the world has been going to hell in a handcart since people learned how to write/make speeches, etc. Each generation, as it faces radical changes from the old daze of youth, forecasts doom and gloom. Still hate to hear the line my mom used a lot, "Mark my words!"
Don't get me wrong, I agree completely with your analysis. Consumerism as economic bedrock is bananas. Rich getting richer is morally repugnant. Climate change hurts. I own a T-shirt that declares "Fight Truth Decay." Preoccupation with digital devices moves us one step farther from the natural world. The circumstances of our current global condition seem to be on the precipice of disaster.
But could we be wrong? Will human life just keep happenin'? Are we just old farts bummed that life has changed and we'll be dead soon?
Oh, yeah, that's a huge part of it. At the same time, it seems inevitable that the whole climate evolution is going to cause more pain, suffering, and death than humans have ever been through. For countless years we been good at killing off millions of each other, but I'm guessing billions will put a bit more strain on the old handbasket. The best news for us old curmudgeons is we will be gone before the worst happens. Blaming doesn't get anybody anything . . . whatever will be will be, the future's not ours to see . . . that's for fuckin sure!
Always love your work Mark. Keep it rollin'. I still teach a number of your poems in my Creative Writing elective at Helena High. Hadn't seen the Robert Duncan quote, but it sure rings true. From "a pull of the gold ring", I conjure an oblique reference to Salinger's Phoebe at the end of Catcher in the Rye? We need more George Carlin these days! And I wonder how many of us kids found ourselves conjuring the rhythms and accoutrements of our family's lives from the inside of a closet? Listening, lolling, looking out. Be well, GP
Thanks, Geoff! Definitely need more George, and if I wasn't so large and stiff in the joints, I'd crawl into the closet under the hanging clothes to see if wonder still existed there. You take care. Hey to Nad!
Sometimes when I catch myself bitchin' about something trivial, like "traffic" in Missoula, I am able to think of the stories of my Depression era Dad and I want to slap myself. I don't of course. But then I think of my grandpa (on my mom's side) who was a WW1 vet, a farmer and a rural mailman and I really want to slap myself. I still don't. But now, as I prepare for a fuckin long road trip to St. Louis in 100 degree weather I will add the image of tin cans hammered flat by your grandfather to the list of things that should finally bring my palm swiftly to my face. Thanks for that. You reeled me in and I am a happy to flop around in your blog creel--no need to catch and release.
As they might have said, "Well, that's enough to make a fella want to slap his own grandmother!" But what the hell, go ahead and give yourself a good smack, you deserve it! Heh, heh
What puzzles me is the world has been going to hell in a handcart since people learned how to write/make speeches, etc. Each generation, as it faces radical changes from the old daze of youth, forecasts doom and gloom. Still hate to hear the line my mom used a lot, "Mark my words!"
Don't get me wrong, I agree completely with your analysis. Consumerism as economic bedrock is bananas. Rich getting richer is morally repugnant. Climate change hurts. I own a T-shirt that declares "Fight Truth Decay." Preoccupation with digital devices moves us one step farther from the natural world. The circumstances of our current global condition seem to be on the precipice of disaster.
But could we be wrong? Will human life just keep happenin'? Are we just old farts bummed that life has changed and we'll be dead soon?
That's what puzzles me.
Oh, yeah, that's a huge part of it. At the same time, it seems inevitable that the whole climate evolution is going to cause more pain, suffering, and death than humans have ever been through. For countless years we been good at killing off millions of each other, but I'm guessing billions will put a bit more strain on the old handbasket. The best news for us old curmudgeons is we will be gone before the worst happens. Blaming doesn't get anybody anything . . . whatever will be will be, the future's not ours to see . . . that's for fuckin sure!
Nicely done, Mark! Always enjoy your work...even when it's about the terrifying direction this country is going.
Thanks, Clark! The "erosion" of a dream. I look forward to your new book.
Always love your work Mark. Keep it rollin'. I still teach a number of your poems in my Creative Writing elective at Helena High. Hadn't seen the Robert Duncan quote, but it sure rings true. From "a pull of the gold ring", I conjure an oblique reference to Salinger's Phoebe at the end of Catcher in the Rye? We need more George Carlin these days! And I wonder how many of us kids found ourselves conjuring the rhythms and accoutrements of our family's lives from the inside of a closet? Listening, lolling, looking out. Be well, GP
Thanks, Geoff! Definitely need more George, and if I wasn't so large and stiff in the joints, I'd crawl into the closet under the hanging clothes to see if wonder still existed there. You take care. Hey to Nad!
I’m grateful to you. I wanna be part of what you’re creating.
Thanks, Patsy! Once I get my legs under me, I'll give folks the opportunity to subscribe.
I am not sure you should call the train of consciousness a poem...
Call it whatever you prefer. I don't worry much about policing poetry.