Here is one of my favorite poems that Sparrow used to recite while thumping on a wall or drumming with a stick on the porch of Isabel’s apartment. It really sums up the time period and the lifestyle we experienced together:
It’s just like the old days
Down in the old tin room,
Thumping out sounds on the jugs and jars,
Answered by the scratchy straw broom.
Cold as sweat was the night outside;
Our thumbs were as hot as tea.
We all looked red in that little tin shed,
Now it all comes back to me.
I was down on the ground sniffing gumshoe,
Pain in my pin-cushion heart.
The steam machine was rolling
Like a chimney falling apart.
I remember the old blue haze
Like the mothball roar of a clam;
I had a prefix color on my face
Like the edifice pipe exam.
The sink would shrink
And the lights ignite
And the soup fall over the plow.
In that mix I was getting prolix
Like I think I’m getting now:
I was down on the ground sniffing gumshoe,
Pain in my pin-cushion heart;
The steam machine was rolling
Like a chimney falling apart.
It was damp as a roach in the coal room
As we painted our names on the wall,
Till the wall did hide and the words collide
And there wasn’t no names at all.
The lamp had a cramp
And the hose was froze
And we cried when we heard the bell.
In these days I am quite amazed
That it all turned out so well.
I was down on the ground sniffing gumshoe,
Pain in my pin-cushion heart.
The steam machine was rolling
Like a chimney with a broken heart.
(by Sparrow)
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Drifting into the Divine ~♥~ 