Ian came over last night to have dinner with us on his way to the weekly Poetry group meeting. Since he drives right by our house, he usually stops for dinner. It’s always too short, but we love seeing and talking with him.
The poetry group is fond of Ian and encourages and supports him. He would never have considered attending a weekly poetry workshop four years ago.
He rarely misses a meeting and now attends a second poetry group near Schuylerville, just outside Saratoga Springs.
As usual, he brought us a poem, and we loved it. His use of words is remarkable. He is always welcome at dinner.
________
By Ian McRae
“The desk ages gracefully when the varnish flakes like
dead skin, the wood underneath
It is new and fresh and pale.
I kept this typewriter around because it has
There is a little latent heat
from the last poem
a little bit of fire, an ember
That I can blow on, gently at first.
But then beat on abuse, tuck, and hate, and hate.
And slam and smash
and every time, somehow
this machine, abused and doglike
looks back at me
And says.
You ain’t nothing I can’t take.”
Great pic, Jon.
Tell Ian I like his poem. Made me smile and relate to the efforts of writing.
Nice, Ian.
This makes me think of the first typewriter my parents purchased for me about 1958. It was a Smith Corona. That was the year I was a freshman and had to take a Personal Typing course. Especially since the 1980’s, when computers
appeared to the world, I realized how important that class and the teacher, Miss Smith had been.