XIII Wayes of Regardinge a Litel Woolen Hatte, and other poems

[browngirl]

I'm glad I don't have to pick a favorite sentient achievement, but if I had to make a list of favorites, poetry would be on it.

XIII Wayes of Regardinge a Litel Woolen Hatte, a poeme by Galfridus Chaucer, not only charmed me incredibly but by linking to his inspiration introduced me to two poems I need to keep. So, with thanks to Wallace Stevens...

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Tortilla

by Aaron Abeyta
i.
among twenty different tortillas
the only thing moving
was the mouth of the niño
ii.
i was of three cultures
like a tortilla
for which there are three bolios

iii.
the tortilla grew on the wooden table
it was a small part of the earth

iv.
a house and a tortilla
are one
a man a woman and a tortilla
are one

v.
i do not know which to prefer
the beauty of the red wall
or the beauty of the green wall
the tortilla fresh
or just after

vi.
tortillas filled the small kitchen
with ancient shadows
the shadow of Maclovia
cooking long ago
the tortilla
rolled from the shadow
the innate roundness

vii.
o thin viejos of chimayo
why do you imagine biscuits
do you not see how the tortilla
lives with the hands
of the women about you

viii.
i know soft corn
and beautiful inescapable sopapillas
but i know too
that the tortilla
has taught me what i know

ix.
when the tortilla is gone
it marks the end
of one of many tortillas

x.
at the sight of tortillas
browning on a black comal
even the pachucos of española
would cry out sharply

xi.
he rode over new mexico
in a pearl low rider
once he got a flat
in that he mistook
the shadow of his spare
for a tortilla

xii.
the abuelitas are moving
the tortilla must be baking

xiii.
it was cinco de mayo all year
it was warm
and it was going to get warmer
the tortilla sat
on the frijolito plate (2001)



Elegy for My Father, Who Is Not Dead
by Andrew Hudgins

One day I'll lift the telephone
and be told my father's dead. He's ready.
In the sureness of his faith, he talks
about the world beyond this world
as though his reservations have
been made. I think he wants to go,
a little bit--a new desire
to travel building up, an itch
to see fresh worlds. Or older ones.
He thinks that when I follow him
he'll wrap me in his arms and laugh,
the way he did when I arrived
on earth. I do not think he's right.
He's ready. I am not. I can't
just say good-bye as cheerfully
as if he were embarking on a trip
to make my later trip go well.
I see myself on deck, convinced
his ship's gone down, while he's convinced
I'll see him standing on the dock
and waving, shouting, Welcome back. (1991)

Comments

[baranduin.livejournal.com]

I like both of these but there is something really marvelous about the tortilla one. I can smell freshly made tortillas from reading that one:-)

[browngirl.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I had the same reaction! It made me hungry!

[jadelennox]

My dad was a religious man, and he loved me, and so the Hudgins made me cry. (Literally; hope the redness goes down before my meeting in 20 minutes.)

I don't actually hope my dad and the poet's voice's dad are right about the journey dock, and yet I do. Because.

[browngirl.livejournal.com]

*hugs you* I'm sorry ot have made you cry, and I hear you. That poem really resonated with me, agnostic child of a deeply religious couple.

[acelightning.livejournal.com]

[browngirl.livejournal.com]

I've fixed the link. You should read it, it's charming!

And yes, tortilla manufacturers should send ad fees to Mr. Abeyta!

[acelightning.livejournal.com]

[hitchhiker.livejournal.com]

wow, thanks for sharing those! this verse in particular i found really brilliant:

A gentil and a churl
Are one.
A gentil and a churl and a litel woolen hatte
Are one.

[browngirl.livejournal.com]

That was one of my favorite lines, too. :) As were the bit about not letting the hat fall off while riding the ferry, and the last segment in its perfection.

[amaebi.livejournal.com]

I like that poem. I mean, the elegy. I should click through and read the mock-Chaucer, though: I like the lines hitchhiker pulled out.

[browngirl.livejournal.com]

I am saving that elegy. When one day I have to attend my father's funeral I may print it and put it in my pocket.

Did you read the poem of the Litel Woolen Hatte?