Anthony Watkins's Blog, page 21

When we was

just kids with hopes 

and dreams and parents 

Who could do anything 

and we knew right from wrong 

and we thought the world 

could be made right 

when we was

but we ain’t we no more 

them kids and them kids 

ain’t no more 

I hope there are kids today 

who still believe and hope 

they still know what’s right 

And know how to make 

the world go that way .

Fragments on Juneteenth,

the Monday federal holiday 

Town hall is open

the federal highway sign is leaning out

at a bit of an angle

the sheriffs deputy

waiting at the light

Bob Dylan’s harmonica

from 50 years ago still playing

still on the radio

fried fish but it ain’t even Friday

the smell of diesel and gear oil

clean corn for sale

corn for deer but no

fresh shelled peas

or tomatoes worth eating

the spring is still cold

and deep

but today is a workday

for some of us

for me

the smell of cedar

everywhere in the air

but I think the little boy

he never made it home

I saw the hole in his head

logging trucks

and the highway patrol

with his scales.

Rock of ages

and Jesus up on

the old rugged cross

and Jesus it’s hot

and the railroad gates

don’t seem to want to close

the logging trucks

make illegal turns

and drive too fast

because they work

for the man who owns this town

Flying past beautiful campus

the canopy trees

the wrought iron gate

it’s not a college

and it’s not a factory

well it is kind a factory

where it produces ex felons

they’re our number one crop

used to be tobacco

and there’s still plenty of corn

and watermelon and hay

and pine straw

now it’s more pine straw

except most of all

its ex felons

and the vultures

right on the water tower

and the bell tower sits

in the parking lot

waiting to be reinstalled

I like the bell

and the bell tower

but it was leaning

and they were afraid

it was going to fall

so the state allocated

thousands and thousands

of dollars to replace it

money that probably

should’ve been spent

on books and nutritious food

for the poor kids in town

When we was

just kids with hopes 

and dreams and parents 

Who could do anything 

and we knew right from wrong 

and we thought the world 

could be made right 

when we was

but we ain’t we no more 

them kids and them kids 

ain’t no more 

I hope there are kids today 

who still believe and hope 

they still know what’s right 

And know how to make 

the world go that way 

On the Come Back Through

sitting on the steps

of my country store

where the dirt meets

the hard road

rolling a Prince Albert

and the barefoot boy

comes right along

hoe on his shoulder

stops whistling long enough

to look me in the eye

while rubbing his nickel

and dime in his pocket

and says, “I aint thirsty, yet

but I’ll be getting a cold soda

on the come back through.”

I Don’t Play Poker

I don’t drink whiskey

never liked either

though rum and wine

 and beer are all favorites

until type two

took them as well

when I should

be writing poems

though god knows

who for

I sip coffee or

diet ginger ale

and play solitaire

or spades on computer

I love to play tonk

or black jack,

in person

and I still have

a half a beer

now and then.

It’s a wild life

settling into

old age in my

overstuffed chair.

Crackers for lunch

If you don’t have a red balloon

if you don’t have a moon pie 

in your lunchbox 

if you’ve never had 

crackers for lunch 

if you never walked a mile 

down the dirt road 

to catch a school bus

there are probably things 

you have done I don’t understand 

but this is my world 

Slapping in it horseflies

dusty bare feet and all 

If you were old enough 

and you swam in the creek 

and ate commodity cheese 

then maybe you’ve been 

to my house once or twice.

The Field of Mud

waits in the rain

for me and the crawdads

sometimes there’s a field

of green grass

with a little pond

at the bottom

this is the time of year

for second planting  

the big blue tractor

turned all the soil

into a sandy gray brown

smoothly sloping field

and nobody counted

on three days

of rain in June

tomorrow the sun

will come out  

crawdads will make castles

and water snakes

will crawl down the holes

and eat until they

can eat no more

if it rains again

they will drown

amongst their feast

If I wrote in Russian

I could tell you

about the apple orchards

especially in blossom

in the treachery

that lay at

the bottom of the pond

weighted with the stones

of history

of an overbearing father

of bears and vodka

in poetry in

the winter lodge

the meanings would be

only obvious to those

who studied and knew

of the czars and Bolsheviks

but I am only

a simple American

who knows of watermelons

and tomatoes and

snakes and railroad ties

если бы я писал по русски

Saturday, Mount Airy Kmart, 1977

All week, Yankee food

mashed potatoes with

fake mushroom gravy

so many dishes

salt and pepper

could not save

but on Saturday

my brother and I

would drive out

to Mount Airy

The deli in the Kmart

sold four ham

and cheese sandwiches

in a bag for a dollar.

We would eat them

in the parking lot 

in the autumn sunlight

I have paid a hundred

dollars for a meal

but never had better.

Cauliflower is not Insubstantial

she said

as we cleared

the dinner dishes

which made me

think of all

the insubstantial things

unlike cauliflower

things that matter

only in a moment

and then pass

today’s weather

tomorrow’s sunrise

while important

in the moment

once past

they aree as substantial

as the ‘w’ at the

beginning of ‘once’.

she said

as we cleared

the dinner dishes

which made me

think of all

the insubstantial things

unlike cauliflower

things that matter

only in a moment

and then pass

today’s weather

tomorrow’s sunrise

while important

in the moment

once past

they are as substantial

as the ‘w’ at the

beginning of ‘once’.