7th & 8th October, 2004
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Rod 4/16/04 Photo by Billy Iz
A Thought for Today
Why war?
A FLIGHT FROM6THE
PAST
Seven years ago during A Safe Place to Land’s first season on the net I
came upon some diary-like works I’d written during my stint in the army
(1953-55). I debated with myself whether or not to publish some of them
and in the end decided why not. Here they are again.
SOLDIERS FROM ANOTHER WAR / September 2, 1998
I.
Soldiers from another war, memories of another time when a dime was a
dime and love was something G.I's only read about: He leans against the
bar and sings fantastic songs. The Marine named Carl, a long way from
home and lonely like the rest of us. His brown eyes seek out the
friendly ones and he sings to them. While the high hipped girl in the
corner cries because she can’t understand the language. All this for a
glass of beer and anyone will tell you it’s worth it.
II.
Some soldiers fight their daily battles, not in body but in mind:
Private Spence has a problem. His eyes are lonelier than most. And
people misinterpret his looks. I saw a big woman follow him home once
when that wasn’t what he wanted at all.
III.
Soldiering is more than coming through the trenches still intact, it's
threading minefields still unmined: She struggled over chocolate cake,
toying with an unfamiliar fork. Looking into the lieutenant’s eyes, who
but an hour ago, was only another stranger. Under the cruel light her
pale green dress and yellow beads seem a little out of place. And as her
fingers fumbled with the fork, she now and then would try to smile. The
lieutenant’s eyes were cold. Devouring her as she devoured chocolate
cake. In another place, another war ago, it had been the same. A walk
through the rain to a small cafe, with another girl, who never got to
know his name.
IV.
Some soldiers come from long lines of soldiers. Soldiering runs in the
family. Some become soldiers to run from the family: Lieutenant Paul
Smith, Marine. Son of a Boston lawyer. His mother played bridge in
Westchester County. This is his first night on the Ginza. He dances
well. His Japanese girl comes to his chin. And they move with easy
motion on the dance floor. The motions will be quicker after dark.
Everything is okay. The moth chases the flame. The bees still pollinate.
The grass is green on spring mountains. The haze of the evening is soft
blue. And Lieutenant Paul Smith waltzes endlessly, with an Oriental head
against his shoulder.
V.
Soldiers from another war, memories of another time when a dime was a
dime and love was something G.I's only read about: Long before we
decided the fate of that retched woman at the Prince Hotel and laughed
into the night, conjuring ways to upset her. I had thought of the
possibility of falling in love with you. Even after I knew there were
others. I was determined not to. Not at this time. Not when I was going
home. Knowing there was anybody, somebody else who loved you. But as it
happened, you turned to me in bed, and smiled. And we were very warm.
Written in Taegu, Korea, 1954. Some of this material was used in the
album "Time of Desire", 1957. With new material, 1998. First published
in Flight Plan 9/2/98
Sleep warm and join me on the weekend for another session of From the
Books.
10/6/2004 12:42AM PDST
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Thursday 7 October
June Allyson o
Shawn Ashmore o
Niels Bohr o
Toni Braxton o
Bobbie Brown o
Shura Cherkassky o
Sarah Churchill o
Andy Devine o
Alfred Drake o
Robert Drivas o
Charles Duitoit o Le
Roi Jones o
R.D. Laing o
Diana Lynn o Yo
Yo Ma o
Helen MacInnes o Al
Martino o
John Cougar Mellencamp o
Vaughn Monroe o
Elijah Muhammad o
Oliver North o
Vladimir Putin o
James Whitcomb Riley o
Bishop Desmond Tutu o
Henry Wallace o
Thom Yorke
Friday
8 October
Rona Barrett o
Christian Bernard o
Jill Bonney o
David Carradine o
Chevy Chase o
Matt Damon o
Temple Fielding o
Frank Herbert o
Paul Hogan o
Jesse Jackson o
James Olsen o
Juan Peron o
Sarah Purcell o
Johnny Ramone o
Ron Randell o
Eddie Rickenbacker o
Pepper Rodgers o
R.L. Stine o
Sigourney Weaver o
Toru Takemitsu o
Stephanie Zimbalist o
King Zog I |
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I
love you enough to let you run but far too much to let you fly.
Interludes are badly named – even purgatory
is a prelude.
Never come up to an existing standard,
always move ahead.
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TWENTY SIX / BROWN OCTOBER |
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Leaves fall down
now
brown and beautiful
brittle to the touch
lying on the ground or filling public fountains.
Swirling down the street,
catching in the gutters
and
diverting little streams of water.
Brown October leaves
trampled under foot
banged about by brooms that sweep the gutters clean.
I remembered today
that among the silly things you saved
was a brown
and yellow leaf
pressed between the pages of a book somewhere.
We found it in the park, remember?
I shook out every book I owned to find it.
Still it’s lost,
or owned these days by Hemingway or Whitman.
Maybe even Gertrude Stein.
Would she know what to do
with a brown and yellow leaf?
And would she give it back?
- From "Listen To The Warm", 1967 |
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