Thursday, August 27, 2009

Bum Ticker

“Cold hands
warm heart”
you smiled and said
as your fingers
wound in mine

watching as
the east
turned red
across the Norfolk
Southern line

A year ago
or was it
(my memory -
it’s useless)

a camp beside
the Little
a boneyard of

Never been one
to split
my scraps or butts
or mission bread

never gave much
to it
or asked what swam
inside your head

I could’ve been
a lot
of things
(or so I often
told you)

but that
was just
my ramblings,
a bill of goods
I sold you

The ties are choked
with weeds
and haws,
the rails are rough
and rusted;

(my hands
are always
cold because
my stupid heart
is busted.)


Jannie Funster said...

Oh, this must be the Other You writing 'cause I'm pretty sure your heart is just peachy-fine.

Liked the mission bread. Is there anything more meager than mission bread? Except maybe for mission crusts with mold on them that you eat and are glad for.

Karen said...

I always enjoy the rhythm and rhyme in your poetry, and this is certainly no exception. Besides the sound, I love the way you inhabit the speakers of your work and lead us to understand the twists and turns within them.

The poem flows so easily it's possible to remain unaware of the careful crafting here. You mentioned in a comment on my blog that you enjoy poetry that takes you somewhere unexpected. I can say the same here. This thoughtless guy is much more introspective than we might at first believe or he might avow. He seems to understand himself and his relationship with her quite well.

Love the interspersing on the rails and their state as the poem in microcosm.

Great, enjoyable, thought-provoking as always!

Julie said...

I love this poem on so many levels. (Here I come sounding like a broken record again). But dangit, I just love it. The first stanza made me smile. Oh, yes. I agree with Jannie about the mission bread. The boneyard of cabooses is AWESOME! And like you always do, you punch me in the gut with the last stanza.

Joaquin, you are one of a kind and a pleasure to read. Wonderful work:)

Karen said...

To sound like Julie, I'm danged if I can figure out why you don't have more comments on your poetry! This has been bothering me for some time now. I want to shout through Cyberspace: READ THIS GUY!!!!

just had to get that off my chest...

RachelW said...

Dratted ticker.

Anonymous said...

I love the line "a bill of goods I sold you" like Julie said there are so many levels to this piece - the butts and misson bread the Little Sioux -- time, space, love and being busted - but with Hope -- some hope of a brighter day --- bkm

Aniket said...

Mine too, ol' friend, mine too. :P

joaquin carvel said...

jannie - must be - lots of other mes. thanks for popping in and all your kind words - like the bread, i'm grateful for them.

karen - thank you, as always, for your insight. i was beginning to regret the structure of this one but it seemed to pan out. i think you're right about him - he's a little slippery. had to smile at the second comment - i'm not even sure how i got to where i am, reader-wise. that said, the comments left here, by the people who leave them, are way beyond what i expected. (personally, i like to think it's because it will make a better story when my blog becomes a book and then a movie that somehow features meryl streep.)

julie - that's a broken record i never get tired of. your words are incredibly encouraging - thank you.

rachel - tell me about it. :)

bkm - thank you - glad you found a glimmer of hope in it!

aniket - well - maybe we should hit the rails together. ;) thanks!

Karen said...

I had to laugh at your comment. You know, Meryl can play anyone! LOL

But I do know what you mean. I really do - and I say this with all sincerity and a built in crap detector - I really do see a tremendous talent here. You have a unique voice. Worthy.

Anonymous said...

Oh I like. Made me smile and cry at the same time,if possible! Like how a Rainbow comes to being.