American Zen & Gospel
In the sticks where I can’t get
cable & internet is unreliable
it’s natural–inevitable–to turn
to AM radio when you are bored
& want something to happen.
I stumble on a call-in show
for selling tractors, pigs
rabbits, gravel & consider
buying a scoop of Chattanooga
Red gravel or a Blue
Heeler pup. I switch
the dial to Bluegrass Sunrise
on WBLU where old-timey
twang blasts with high
harmonies & runaway
mandolin. Do you want
to go home? Why are you so
alone? the lead singer
belts. I can’t answer. I’ve roamed
city & farm with a restlessness,
a twirling mind like a shiny
baton. No matter, an inner
voice hums. Just breathe
slowly. Watch curvy fields morph
from baby green to bronze
stubble. The welcoming hay
harvest will come & come again
with light coatings of December
now on the naked maples. Returning
seasons mature me like wind
& rain beat down boulder & slate
into sediment & sand. I notice the high tenor,
the three-part harmonies soaring
as I make the practical spiritual choice
& order the Chattanooga Red.
15 thoughts on "American Zen & Gospel"
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From title on this is perfect..”Returning
seasons mature me like wind
& rain beat down boulder & slate
into sediment & sand.”
I could say form, line breaks, etc. all day
but it’s the emotion that packs the wallop
I love this piece–but that transition from fifth and then the sixth stanza is the hinge of the poem to be. It’s so thoughtful and meditative and I lean into it
I adore this. Naked maples! Yummy.
Btw I switched to the tenor part in choir this year after decades as a baritone. I like it better. Sometimes it does your heart good to soar.
The high tenor gives bluegrass that haunting “high-lonesome” sound. I love it that you are singing high tenor!
I think Jim nails it above. The emotional maturity of the piece is what sells it. The rest is icing on the cake.
this is tight as f\/ck!
if it’s private you don’t have say, but did you write this
this morning?
if so, you put us all to sh@me. 🙂
<3 the hay harvest stubble-
the double
course of gravel.
I love where this poem takes me. What a ride.
Love:
old-timey
twang blasts with high
harmonies & runaway
mandolin.
I notice the high tenor,
the three-part harmonies soaring
as I make the practical spiritual choice
& order the Chattanooga Red.
I learn what poetry can be and where it can take you from reading your poems–thank you! In this one the am radio you mention got into my consciousness…and a childhood memory came up and will not go away, so I will share it with you (—I was maybe 7 or 8 outside of Houston, Texas, and the man on the radio promised a glow in the dark autographed statue of Jesus…I have wondered about that all of my life. .My parents thought I made it up…but I know what I heard!..)
There are so many tracks in our minds–I love how your poems, and your choice of words allow us to travel them. You make the window in the house fly open! Thank you!
And as usual, the PoMo mindmeld takes place.
This is stunning, Linda.
And yes, the maturity and Zen with which you approach the spinning of the day away…makes my attempt to find such laughable 😂💙
Thank you for sharing your gift with us each year.
Wonderful stream of consciousness and the ending is like tying a bow.
Yes , this !!!!!
The welcoming hay
harvest will come & come again
with light coatings of December
now on the naked maples.
AH so! Lindasan!e
the e was silent
A beautiful, soaring journey through space and time!