Poetry Month #30: Wolf Creek Pass by CW McCall

It seems only fitting that we should end this poetic adventure with a bit of humor from CW McCall ... only problem there isn't any CW McCall ... he was the invention of an advertising guy named William Dale Fries, Jr., who, theoretically, still lives somewhere in Iowa. Fries wrote the lyrics and sang while Chip Davis, later of Mannheim Steamroller, wrote the music.

Back when the girls were young, we drove from California to Missouri to visit my parents. To entertain us along the way, I made a mix tape (long before playlists) of story songs, some funny, some sad, some just down right silly. This one was a favorite especially since we drove over the real Wolf Creek Pass.

Somewhere along the line I memorized it and I love it when a conversation opens up and I can say with a sorta straight face ...

did I ever tell you about the time that me and Earl 

was haulin' chickens on a flatbed out of Wiggins ...

It's a fun song ... hope you enjoy it ... and hope we're all around next year when Poetry Month rolls around again. And thank you Mr. Fries ... or CW ... your music has given us a lot of fun.

The real wolf creek pass -- click here for the song

[Verse 1]
Me and Earl was haulin' chickens
On the flatbed out of Wiggins
And we'd spent all night on the uphill side
Of 37 miles of hell called Wolf Creek Pass
Which is up on the Great Divide

[Verse 2]
We was sittin' there suckin' toothpicks
Drinkin' Nehis and onion soup mix
And I says, "Earl, let's mail a card to mother
And then send them chickens on down the other side
Yeah, let's give 'em a ride"

[Chorus]
Wolf Creek Pass
Way up on the Great Divide
Truckin' on down the other side

[Verse 3]
Well, Earl put down his bottle
Mashed his foot down on the throttle
And then a couple of boobs with a thousand cubes
In a 1948 Peterbilt screamed to life
We woke up the chickens

[Verse 4]
We roared up off of that shoulder
Spraying pine cones, rocks, and boulders
And put four hundred head of them Rhode Island Reds
And a couple of burnt-out roosters on the line
Look out below 'cause here we go

[Chorus]
Wolf Creek Pass
Way up on the Great Divide
Truckin' on down the other side

[Verse 5]
Well, we commenced to truckin'
And them hens commenced to cluckin'
And Earl took out a match and scratched his pants
And lit up the unused half of a dollar cigar and took a puff
Says, "My, ain't this pretty up here"

[Verse 6]
I says, "Earl, this hill can spill us
You better slow down, you gon' kill us
Just make one mistake and it's the pearly gates
For them 85 crates of USDA-approved cluckers
You wanna hit second?"

[Chorus]
Wolf Creek Pass
Way up on the Great Divide
Truckin' on down the other side

[Verse 7]
Well, Earl grabbed on the shifter
And he stabbed 'er into fifth gear
And then the chromium-plated
Fully-illuminated genuine accessory shift knob
Come right off in his hand
I says, "You wanna screw that thing back on, Earl?"

[Verse 8]
He was tryin' to thread it on there
When the fire fell off of his cigar
And dropped on down, sorta rolled around
And then lit the cuff of Earl's pants
And burned a hole in his sock
Yeah, sorta set him right on fire

[Verse 9]
I looked on out of the window
And I started countin' phone poles
Going by at the rate of four to the seventh power
Well, I put two and two together
And added twelve and carried five
Come up with twenty two thousand telephone poles an hour

[Verse 10]
I looked at Earl and his eyes was wide
His lip was curled and his leg was fried
And his hand was froze to the wheel
Like a tongue to a sled in the middle of a blizzard

[Verse 11]
I says, "Earl, I'm not the type to complain
But the time has come for me to explain
That if you don't apply some brake real soon
They're going to have to pick us up with a stick and a spoon"

[Verse 12]
Well, Earl rared back, cocked his leg, stepped down as hard as he could on the brake
And the pedal went clear to the floor and stayed right there on the floor
He says it's sorta like steppin' on a plum

[Verse 13]
Well, from there on down it just wasn't real pretty
It was hairpin county and switchback city
One of 'em looked like a can full of worms
Another one looked like malaria germs

[Verse 14]
Right in the middle of the whole damn show
Was a real nice tunnel, now wouldn't you know
Sign says clearance to the twelve foot line
But the chickens was stacked to thirteen nine

[Verse 15]
Well, we shot that tunnel at a hundred and ten
Like gas through a funnel and eggs through a hen
We took that top row of chickens off slicker than the scum off a Louisiana swamp

[Verse 16]
Went down and around, around and down
And we run out of ground at the edge of town
Bashed into the side of the feed store
Downtown Pagosa Springs

[Chorus]
Wolf Creek Pass
Way up on the Great Divide
Truckin' on down the other side
Wolf Creek Pass
Way up on the Great Divide
Truckin' on down the other side

Corona Gift: Virtual Movies

Trailer photo: The Woman Who Loves Giraffes

Maureen Doallas posted on Facebook about a new film: The Booksellers. Following that link, I found a list of virtual theaters offering movies and trailers. It reminded me that recently  Brené Brown talked on a podcast about her “movie nights” where she only watches trailers because they are designed to deliver an emotional punch.

When I started exploring this link, I found a list of virtual movie theaters all across the US, each offering several movies and their trailers. I had just decided to sign up for amazon prime or Netflix but wasn’t thrilled by their offerings. Since the list did not include a theater in Reno, I clicked on Denver and found a trailer for The Woman Who Loves Giraffes. I happen to love giraffes also (who doesn’t?) so I watched the trailer and weeped … a sure sign I’ll have to rent the movie tonight.

The movie is offered by the DenverFilm.org with this info: For over 40 years, Denver Film has focused on building a rich community through the art of film. During this temporary closure of our home at the Sie FilmCenter, we have partnered with distributors to bring you theatrical releases of films that were set to open at the theater, right to your home, with part of the proceeds going to your favorite arthouse.

I quickly realized two things:

1. I’d much rather have my money go to these local cultural organizations than the biggies like prime or Netflix.
2. I love going to the movies and sitting in the dark with a group of unknown people who all laugh at the same lines and weep at the same sorrows. However, it has become increasingly hard for me to find movies that call to me. (Probably a function of age and having seen so many already.) Anyway, after looking at the 20-some odd movies offered by the Denver Film group, there were only 2 that didn't sound fascinating. 

 This is going to be an adventure and I will document what I find in this space and would love to have you come along with me. Popcorn optional.

Poetry Month #29: Untitled by Yanyi

Three poems of this poetry month celebration were recommended by people who truly know poetry: the folks at Seattle's Open Books: A Poem Emporium who generously helped me fill out the schedule.

Imagine reading in a comfy chair in a tiny, inviting space brimming with over 10,000 new, used, and out-of-print books ... all poetry. In fact, Open Books is one of only two or three poetry-only book stores in the country and offers a wide variety of readings and other poetry-oriented events. Of course, right now, you can't do that because the store is closed because of the coronavirus.

When owner Billie Swift had to close the store, it was clear that she needed to start selling books online. However, she knew she wanted to maintain some of the look and service offered to people who came into the store. She didn't want just a fulfillment warehouse so she kept all the staff and designed a process that would replicate as closely as possible the store experience. Email questions are encouraged and staff picks showcase new and important work.

Online store has a bookish look and is simple to use.

Here's the third recommendation from Open Books as described by bookseller Jeric Swift: The Year of Blue Water by Yanyi, winner of the Yale Series of Younger Poets. This untitled poem is a short prose poem that I find myself wondering about a lot, while we're all inside social distancing from everybody we love. We're all kind of forced to stick with ourselves (for good reason) and, for me, I'm trying to figure out how I'd like to emerge from this moment. It's going to take self-reflection, rest, for sure, and at some point I'm going to have to reckon with the systems I find myself beholden to in "regular" pre-covid-19 life.

You tell me that the old you is dead. I am also not who I used

to be. The revolution is emotional. I found a reason to not fear

death. I found more reasons to live, reasons to change what is

living inside me and around me. The revolution is that I care

about my own safety, that I believe my life is valuable and worth

pursuing. As in, I am worth the work of transformations. As in, I

do not fear how I will emerge from myself, or how many times.

            ––Yanyi, from The Year of Blue Water (Yale)

 

Poetry Month #28: Make Rice by No'u Revilla

Three poems of this poetry month celebration were recommended by people who truly know poetry: the folks at Seattle's Open Books: A Poem Emporium who generously helped me fill out the schedule.

Imagine reading in a comfy chair in a tiny, inviting space brimming with over 10,000 new, used, and out-of-print books ... all poetry. In fact, Open Books is one of only two or three poetry-only book stores in the country and offers a wide variety of readings and other poetry-oriented events. Of course, right now, you can't do that because the store is closed because of the coronavirus.

When owner Billie Swift had to close the store, it was clear that she needed to start selling books online. However, she knew she wanted to maintain some of the look and service offered to people who came into the store. She didn't want just a fulfillment warehouse so she kept all the staff and designed a process that would replicate as closely as possible the store experience. Email questions are encouraged and staff picks showcase new and important work.

Online store has a bookish look and is simple to use.

Here's the second recommendation from Open Books as described by bookseller Jeric Swift: No'u Revilla, who is a queer Indigenous poet and educator of Hawai'ian and Tahitian descent. She was born and raised on the island of Maui and has performed all over the world in places like Papua New Guinea, Canada, and at the United Nations. 

The making of the rice, the washing of the grains in preparation of feeding her family, and how the running of water over the grains somehow find its way running over the bodies of children... The speaker is reminded of children escaping through fences, alluding to the treacherous journeys immigrants and refugees, at times, are forced to undertake when leaving home. The dread of raising a daughter seeping into this simple and domestic act of washing the rice is startling.

Make Rice

I rinse fists of brown grain with

water that comes from the faucet and

even if I can’t afford it, I take

the time to watch hard pellets

squeeze through my fingers

like hard brown children are squeezed

out of holes

in fences

on private property.

Pouring dirty water out,

shooting faucet water in.

But I never lose a piece of rice

because that could be my daughter.

            ––No’u Revilla, from Effigies III: Permission to Make Digging Sounds (Salt Publishing)

Poetry Month #27 "We Aren’t the Only Species" by Craig Santos Perez

The next three poems of this poetry month celebration were recommended by people who truly know poetry: the folks at Seattle's Open Books: A Poem Emporium who generously helped me fill out the schedule.

Imagine reading in a comfy chair in a tiny, inviting space brimming with over 10,000 new, used, and out-of-print books ... all poetry. In fact, Open Books is one of only two or three poetry-only book stores in the country and offers a wide variety of readings and other poetry-oriented events. Of course, right now, you can't do that because the store is closed because of the coronavirus.

When owner Billie Swift had to close the store, it was clear that she needed to start selling books online. However, she knew she wanted to maintain some of the look and service offered to people who came into the store. She didn't want just a fulfillment warehouse so she kept all the staff and designed a process that would replicate as closely as possible the store experience. Email questions are encouraged and staff picks showcase new and important work.

Online store has a bookish look and is simple to use.

So, here's the first recommendation from Open Books: Craig Santos Perez, whose book Habitat Threshold just came out this month from Omnidawn. One of the gifts of this pandemic has been a healing of the planet, even if temporary.

Jeric Swift who made this recommendation stated: "Perez has always been a champion for the environment and for Pacific and Indigenous communities. This poem of his speaks to me because of the way it reads, its repetition actually changing the way I breathe while reading it. It's such a poignant reminder of the breath, the air, we share with all species."

 We Aren’t the Only Species

who age who change who language who pain who play who pray who

save who mate who native who take who break who invade who claim

who taste who want who talk who crawl who walk who yawn who trauma

who laugh who care who hear who fear who steal who heal who friend

who remember who sex who nest who settle who smell who help who eat

who feed who greed who sleep who see who need who belong who bleed

who speak who breathe who breathe who breathe who think who drink

who sing who thirst who birth who kill who smile who lick who listen

who kiss who give who sick who piss who shit who swim who migrate

who die who fight who cry who hide who sign who mourn who mourn

who mourn who work who school who tool who colonize who bond who 

protect who hope who lose who love who lonely who touch who moan

who drown who hurt who hunt who run who hunger who nurse who

suffer who build who trust who bury who future who house who house

who house on this our only 

––Craig Santos Perez, from Habitat Threshold (Omnidawn Press)

Here is a video of Perez reading "Praise Song For Oceania":

Click here to listen.

And here are the Open Book's last two virtual readings for Poetry Month:

>Tuesday, April 28 8:00pm

Instagram Live Reading with Kaveh Akbar, Paige Lewis, Rachael Allen, Ella Rimmer & Memoona Zahid

>Thursday, April 30 7:30pm

 Shelter in Poems: A Virtual Poetry Reading

Poetry Month #26: "Remember" by Joy Harjo

Joy Harjo is an internationally renowned performer and writer of the Muscogee (Creek) Nation and was named the 23rd Poet Laureate of the United States in 2019.

Her website offers us this information:

Born in Tul­sa, Okla­homa, she left home to attend high school at the inno­v­a­tive Insti­tute of Amer­i­can Indi­an Arts, which was then a Bureau of Indi­an Affairs school. Har­jo began writ­ing poet­ry as a mem­ber of the Uni­ver­si­ty of New Mexico’s Native stu­dent orga­ni­za­tion, the Kiva Club, in response to Native empow­er­ment move­ments. She went on to earn her MFA at the Iowa Writ­ers’ Work­shop and teach Eng­lish, Cre­ative Writ­ing, and Amer­i­can Indi­an Stud­ies at Uni­ver­si­ty of Cal­i­for­nia-Los Ange­les, Uni­ver­si­ty of New Mex­i­co, Uni­ver­si­ty of Ari­zona, Ari­zona State, Uni­ver­si­ty of Illi­nois, Uni­ver­si­ty of Col­orado, Uni­ver­si­ty of Hawai’i, Insti­tute of Amer­i­can Indi­an Arts, and Uni­ver­si­ty of Ten­nessee, while per­form­ing music and poet­ry nation­al­ly and internationally.

Click here to listen to her read "Remember"

Remember

by Joy Harjo

 

Remember the sky that you were born under,
know each of the star’s stories.
Remember the moon, know who she is.
Remember the sun’s birth at dawn, that is the
strongest point of time. Remember sundown
and the giving away tonight.
Remember your birth, how your mother struggled
to give you form and breath. You are evidence of
her life, and her mother’s, and hers.
Remember your father. He is your life, also.
Remember the earth whose skin you are:
red earth, black earth, yellow earth, white earth
brown earth, we are earth.
Remember the plants, trees, animal life who all have their
tribes, their families, their histories, too. Talk to them,
listen to them. They are alive poems.
Remember the wind. Remember her voice. She knows the
origin of this universe.
Remember you are all people and all people
are you.
Remember you are this universe and this
universe is you.
Remember all is in motion, is growing, is you.
Remember language comes from this.
Remember the dance language is, that life is.
Remember.

Poetry Month #25: "The Power of Collaboration" by George the Poet

Click here to hear George the Poet on the Power of Collaboration

George The Poet reflects on the Power of Collaboration during the time of #Covid19 and recorded this poem for this years' virtual Skoll World Forum for Social Entrepreneurship. George "The Poet" Mpanga is a London-born spoken word performer of Ugandan heritage. 

His innovative brand of musical poetry has won him critical acclaim both as a recording artist and a social commentator. He hosts BBC Sounds 'Have You Heard George's Podcast?' and has won a string of awards and nominations, including the BRIT Awards Critics' Choice Award, BET's Best International Act, 2020 NME Award for Best Podcast, audioBoom's coveted "Podcast of the Year" and the BBC's Sound of 2015.