Small Snapshots Worthy of Note (but not long enough for a poem of their own)

1. Ministry

My friend was ex-director

of the Ministry of Agriculture;

he tells me it was his job

to inspect regional offices

in far-flung territories. He says,

"I was sent to San Marcos,

before the upgrades to the

road crossing the spine of

the Sierra Madre. When I

got there, I was confused...

the address they gave me,

was a bar. I was told, upon

entering, that the government

office was on the second floor,

up a flight of stairs in the back.

Just walk straight ahead

through the whorehouse and

you will find your comrades."

2. Ecology

They don't feed the dogs,

where I lived. The curs run

more or less feral, numbering

in hundreds, thousands. Sort

of attached to families in the

way that unloved children will

congregate wherever there

is a spark of kindness. My

ecology training failed me, I

could not figure out what the

hell they were eating. They

were not attacking chickens,

there was no wildlife. They were

in poor shape, but not quite as

terrible as they should be, all

things considered, equal. Then

the answer stared me unabashed

in the face one day, as I was busy

averting eyes for modesty. No

latrines. In a world where every

ounce of protein is worth gold,

a natural sewer system was

created by intelligent design.

3. Aspirations

She is 12, and she is a member

of children's group. Armando

is a great kid, he has done the

icebreakers; built trust. He asks

them now to share, it is an

interactive forum, development

of youth community leadership,

encouraging girls' participation

and exploring extant gender roles.

All the things that make us look

great on paper. So he asks the

group, tell me about your dreams

for the future? and she turns her

eyes to the ground, shuffles her

feet. She tells him, in a scared

whisper, I just want to run away

so that my family does not make

me get married next year.

4. Religion

I am snarling at deadlines, edgy

from intrusion; when the knock

comes to my door. Doorbell,

actually, set to 9000 decibels-

I jump out of my skin each time;

heart pounding, I answer the door

and it is THEM. Earnest faced,

propaganda in hand, asking me for

a moment to discuss the word of

Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ, I think,'

not this... deliver me from your

followers, amen. I say, I have my

own beliefs, carefully drafted over

three decades of consideration,

and as always, they push, they push

and finally I snap, tell them to go

away, leave me in peace. As I

enclose myself again, in tranquility,

I am struck by the incredible irony

of the Mayans trying to convert me

from shamanism to Christianity.

Author's Note

hope you enjoy these little slices of life. may make them something else, or maybe just use them in a novel. not sure.

Reviews

[Tree]

I remember this snapshot from a previous comment, and love that the poetess has slotted it into a poem of its own. Trust me, when I read the original excerpt I wondered out loud that you should re-direct that idea into a poem home of its own... This is what we should all set out to do as humble documentarians; remember, save, polish, and give it back to our friends.
Also liked how you abruptly cut this off too, assuming it was intentional you give the reader now a cliff, from where to leap off ––– of his own imagination.

Well done, Marie.

[Marie Anzalone]

thanks, Diego... take another look, I just added three more. maybe you'll like them, too?

[Tree]

Kind of blew me away here. So much for that cliff, you just walked me into three separate visions. (sorry I was so quick on the draw, you know me to be a loyal and prompt reviewer to my friends, hell, I didn't even wait for the complete poem:) Anyhow, I love when poets use this simple vignette like form to give to the reader, as you you know it is one I've used often. It's just a natural way to tell a story in snippets, breaking it down into easily digestible moments, where then by the end you would have formed a grander, picture. And here are the snapshots that gave progressed into a reel. And the poet has successfully brought us into their world, and we humbled. By the beauty, the sadness, and irony. That last verse from the last snapshot was telling. Very cool piece, Marie. I'll be back for another look see..

Diego

[Marie Anzalone]

and I thank you, my friend, for the extended review. I love seeing my work through your eyes and interpretation and response. Very powerful and telling for me. I learn a lot about presentation form our chats on each others' work, and when we interact on the work of others. It is always a treat when I read that one of my little scribblings impressed you in any way. Thank you.

[Tree]

I agree poetess. I get some grief for having so few friends but it is only because true dialogue about this craft is what I crave, and I don't want to water down my thoughts chasing after 1000 friends, I just don't see how you can learn and truly appreciate what your reading in front of you that way. But I digress, this was a fantastic piece, Marie. And I think you are mining in the perfect place for the kind of evocative material you seem to write about so well: the people, –––the intimate people, and moments of rural Guatemala.

[Marie Anzalone]

I am damned proud to be on your list, and I promise to try to keep bettering my craft in order to stay there. I see that everyone is terrifed of my last piece before this. Makes me take pause. Mining for material.. you know, I have been afraind to delve into the heart of much of this stuff from Guatemala. I feel maybe like a voyeur in some ways, like ts story is not mine to tell. Also quite honestly that most readers have the attention span of flash cubes, and would be bored by the material. I realized just how much: anguish, laughter, admiration, love, heartbreak, etc. I have really been holding in. I promise to do better; you and kortas set the bar on this type of work, and I am jumping, trying to reach it with extended fingertips. Saludos, y muchas gracias por entenderme, como siempre. -Raquelita

[Tree]

That last piece of yours in on my TTDL, and am looking forward to delving into it.
Keep the creative energy flowing, poetes...

Diego

[Marie Anzalone]

I go in cycles, my friend... I think it is to avoid outright emotional burnout, if I am honest.
read moreI go in cycles, my friend... I think it is to avoid outright emotional burnout, if I am honest.
I will be very curious to see your thoughts on that one: too much? not enough? too sympathetic? too detached? unsettling? no impact? I do not need to tell you that it is a very personal story. I appreciate you grealty for being willing to tackle it. Few are.

Unfortunately, I have another 3 hours of work to do tonight, and then a 7:00 am business meeting, followed by 4-hour bus ride. What a way to spend my birthday, I know. :-/

[h d e rushin]

on ecology, I was sent to live with my grandparents on their farm in Georgia when my father was
out of work in Detroit. It was the 1970's rural Georgia of no running water but a sweet greenish
mixture that was brought up from the well that sat next to the road..I wondered how our
turds would magically disappear overnight from the outhouse/ Grandad said it was the work
of the angels..And I still believe him.

The leap from aspirations to religion is both graceful and elegant in shape and manner
of deliverance but there belies a false delicacy/ a child lost to legal but illegal caste
structure and then to be slammed by a religious dictum of improvised western culture.
(At least in the West God has gadgets and lights in lighthouses that show the way
of mostly ininterrupted unsophistication and I was raised in a sanctified church where
people danced in the isles and wigs came off in the spirit) But I do get the contridictions.

Well done my friend. Painful, but well done.
dana

[Marie Anzalone]

The microbes, gut and otherwise, that process human waste might as well be angels, for the number fo lives that they have saved throughout human history; you definitely do have a very valid point there, dana. Interestign that you saw a transition; I really was not considering any logical progression in the snapshots, other than the desire to end on a slightly humorous higher note after terrifying #3. You have nailed it; there is a caste system/ hierarchy alive and well. Whose culture does not contain hypocrisy at some level? We often walk a very fine line between promoting human rights and asking people to change things at the heart of their culture. It makes ME very uneasy sometimes. But I hoenstly fall back on the UN universal declaration of human rights, which I believe in with the addition of two not included in the original document. If your religious/ cultural/ social values dishonor human rights at their core, then values need to change.