Thursday, September 01, 2016

Poem for Thursday, Young Frankenstein, Salisbury Zoo

Letter Already Broadcast into Space
By Jake Adam York

                        —To Sun Ra, from Earth

You are not here,

you are not here
in Birmingham,
        where they keep your name,

not in Elmwood's famous plots
                or the monuments
of bronze or steel or the strew

        of change in the fountain
where the firehoses sprayed.

                In the furnaces,
in the interchange sprawl
        that covers Tuxedo Junction,

in the shopping malls, I think,
                they've forgotten you,

the broadcast towers, the barbecues,

        the statue of the Roman god,
spiculum blotting out
                part of the stars.

To get it dark enough,
        I have to fold back
into the hills, into the trees

                where my parents
planted me, where the TV
        barely reaches and I drift

with my hand on the dial
                of my father's radio,

spinning, too, the tall antenna
        he raised above the pines.

I have to stand at the base

                of the galvanized
pole I can use as an azimuth
        and plot you in.

The hunter's belt is slung again,
                and you are there

in the pulse, in the light of
        Alnitak, Alnilam, Mintaka,

all your different names,

                you are there
in all the rearrangements
        of the stars.

                        Come down now,
come down again,

                like the late fall light
into the mounds along the creek,

        light that soaks like a flood
to show the Cherokee sitting upright
                underground, light

like the fire they imply.

        Come down now
into the crease the freight train
                hits like a piano's hammer

and make the granite hum

                        Come down now

as my hand slips from the dial,
                tired again of looking
for the sound of another way

        to say everything.

Come down now with your diction
                and your dictionary.

Come down, Uncle, come down
        and help me rise.

I have forgot my wings.


Wednesday was another work and chore day. I watched this week's Voyager episode, the odious "Day of Honor" (yes, I know Paris/Torres fans love it, but frankly it encapsulates everything I don't like about their relationship and it's also horribly written). Paul and I got haircuts while Maddy was shopping, then we all went to Giant and CVS.

Paul, Cheryl, and I continued our Gene Wilder marathon with Young Frankenstein, which I hadn't seen in years -- it's not my favorite Mel Brooks movie but it's probably my favorite Wilder performance in one and one of my favorite Teri Garr roles, too. From the Salisbury Zoo, some animals we saw when we stopped for lunch on the way home from the beach:

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