TAKE A WHIFF

There ain’t no difference between me

now and way back, sixty years ago;

I’ve always wanted to know it all,

taste everything, see the world,

meet people, and turn over rocks.

Love has been deep and wide, my spirit

lives with God out to the furthest edge;

pain is my tutor and curiosity my constant

companion. What can I do but take time

to ponder all manner of foolishness?

I remember in Appalachia,

when more people had outhouses

than indoor plumbing, complete

with cobwebs, dead leaves and

dust blown through the crescent moon.

You’d have to choose between torn

pages from the Sears and Roebuck

catalog that hung on a wire coat hanger,

or the bucket of corncobs for toilet paper.

I learned another valuable lesson about

human nature n those dark closets.

It was obviously dangerous,

a three year old can fall right through

the hole in that smelly bench, so going

out there was a scary proposition.

I was too young to know the differences

between folks, some being lazy and some

enterprising.

One might dig a six foot

pit and built over that; the other

just put his on top of the ground.

Once inside, I’d always look down

to see how far I might fall. Sometimes

I couldn’t even see the bottom, but

when the ground was right there,

I just figured that one was full,

so if I slipped, no one would even

want to look for me in there. And

there were the all those stories of

spiders and snakes.

I want to build one in my own

back yard where the rock is six inches

down, but does Sears still print catalogs?

I mean, corn cobs work, but, dang…

I’ll go out there to get away, post

what I was thinking, what I was doing,

and wonder if they would understand

while I consider all those mysteries

that rush into focus every time

I think I’ve got a grasp.

Reviews

[John Sullivan]

I'm an unapologetic Yank, but I'm old enough to remember Sears... American made tools... the five and dime on Rolfe Street... the penny candy store up in New Hampshire... and good God, the mysteries. Strange days, Mr. Lindsey, wanted to stop in and say hello.

[Vol]

John,
Hey, man, I am so glad you did! I imagine in the cold, cold Yankee north, personal latrines were in the basement, and not terribly frightening. Imagine an outhouse thirty feet from the back door ant three feet of snow... and still snowing... OR a nasty chamber pot to empty... ewww, but the story of mankind from the beginning.
Vol

[John Sullivan]

Truth. Naw, we used to go camping, those fuckers had no insulation, weren't heated, and it gets chilly up in those mountains. Wouldn't trade those days for anything though...

[Vol]

Amen... and folks would be amazed how well corncobs work... ( At least they did before I discovered hemorrhoids)
Vol

[John Sullivan]

Ahahaha, we're civilized up North, we always had paper :P

Did used to smoke a corncob pipe though, 'twas pleasant.

Cheers, Mr. L.

[Vol]

Hahaha! As a long pipe smoker Dunhill to custom Preben Holm, Ben Wade and in between but the corncob smoked better than most. You can keep your concrete civilization, though, I prefer the woods, the creeks, rabbits and snakes, any time, and all the time...
Vol

[Vol]

Oh, and, not even my former students are allowed to call me "Mr. Lindsey." Poets are allowed to call me anything else they want...
Vol

[John Sullivan]

Ahahahah, fair, good fella! Yep, the ten dollar Walgreens corncob and some halfway decent tobacco. Naw I live in Rhode Island, which is all of 60 square miles. You can be standing in downtown hipster-land Providence RI and in about twenty minutes with good traffic find yourself in pristine rural farmland. Both have there charms, and I've been fortunate enough to live and work in both places.

[Vol]

Very Cool... Have you ever heard of Robert Roark? A best selling author in the forties-sixties. My favorite of his is a study in 1920-1930 culture and attitudes in the guise of an autobiographical account of life with his grandfather. Very politically incorrect by today's intolerant standards, but full of much truth, too. Seet mostly on th coast of North Carolina but with connections to R.I..
Vol

[Marie]

A very witty, whiffy write in this sublimely penned humourous write. A trip back in time and the memories from those days are finely depicted. So much has changed since then in so many different ways but the old memories linger on to taunt us from time to time. I so enjoyed reading, Vol! Lovely work and thank you for sharing. Lovely work, dear poet...

[Pete]

simpler times and better times in my opinion (despite the inconveniences). we have become too out of touch with the reality of ourselves and god for that matter. a little fear can be a good thing - it keeps us more honest. people don't even talk of such thing anymore. no matter how far times marches on and technology advances there is still a human condition to be reckoned with along with the almighty. love the title, the philosophical thoughts interwoven and the real memories. top notch stuff.

[Vol]

Pete,
Thanks for the encouragement! There is more to all of us than meets the eye, we have to dig for the best stuff...
Vol