Wrecks That Are Human

Wrecks That Are Human

I mean to pick the sweet mint that grows wild on the hill
beside the railroad tracks, but I hear voices and squat,
narrowed into myself, and listening to the people under the trestle.
I can see them too, a man says, Happy Jack, where the hell
is that wood, and Happy Jack is laughing, which seems appropriate,
and he waves some small sticks, and a woman says, hurry,
it is cold, and it is cold, merely brisk to me though, in my warm jacket.
Lola, a tall man says, get those sticks from him, and she does so,
and hands them to the man who is busy blowing leaves, at least
six foot three, but folded now into his legs that rise as high
as a grass hopper, and he adds the sticks, and they light with the leaves,
and with a tissue the woman pulls from her jeans, and Happy Jack
is still laughing, as the woman smiles and says, you have it now,
I think it is going, and it is going pretty well, and no one is drinking wine,
the way everyone said the winos all did down by the tracks.
It appears they are simply cold and maybe hungry, I can't see any food
from here, just a plastic jug of water, and an old blanket, but the man seems
to value his accomplishment, rising tall and laying his hands on Lola.
It appears he is a hero, and Happy Jack drops down beside the fire,
his legs splayed out in front of him, like a child ready for a video game,
as Lola slips from beneath the arm of the man to lie on the blanket.
She points out the 3:10 train coming down the tracks, until it is passing
in high wind beside them, their hair blowing straight back, everyone staring
at the train that never wrecks, always moving on toward unknown destinations.

Reviews

[cest la vie]

Phibby,
Every Tuesday I drink coffee before work with a group of homeless guys. But you know what we call the homeless, they are very much at home out in this wide open world. This is perfection here my dear poetess.. Absolutely a perfect photograph into their world. Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!!

[Captain Wolf]

I'm down with this, home girl!
I really enjoy how much you delve into their world. I'd like to see you do a similar writing in the perspective of someone with a less stable mind, a mental patient or a murderer or a prostitute or somethin. I hate to sound morbid but I think you'd be really good at something like that from reading this brilliant peice.

[TL Boehm]

wow. this takes me back to my childhood and an old wooden rail bridge over a creek...maybe it was the word trestle...maybe it was the thought of human wrecks - but this poem touched me deeply.

[W.k.kortas]

The wise Ms. Anzalone has hit it on the head here; what is remarkable about the people in this piece is how wholly unremarkable they are. They are people, just like you and me, which I suspect is exactly the point.

[Marie Anzalone]

to paraphrase Janet Fitch, "Rembrandt would have sketched them, in charcoal, Van Gogh would have painted himself among them" She also posited the question, what are the ragged people worth, and respinded with "perhaps the entire world". Perhaps they mean everything, these mirrors of what we could have been. Because I'll tell you, sometimes when life is so crazy I am moving from one moment to the next without experiencing anything in the intervening spaces, I stop to catch my breath and wonder about a life where I can feel accomplishment from something as simple as starting a small fire under a bridge to keep a few of us warm.

A most wonderful piece from you. I love the way you look at what most people are afraid to see, and do not place value judgments upon it.

[angelina neves]

an adventure wonderful told! Lovely

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

Wow that was one poetic rollercoaster... the brilliance of it is how it moves so quickly just like life can and how things can change in the blink of an eye, you had me on the edge of my seat line by line. I think I am dizzy now... this was creatively brilliant.

[Emily B]

oh, adventure . . .

[Charles]

Everything seems to work in this effort of yours. The title is so appropriately matched to the last few lines, showing us that, indeed, these wrexks are human (how else would they seem to get such pleasure from the passing of the train). Some great lines here: 'narrowed into myself' and 'rise as high as a grass hopper' among my favorites. What anchors this poem are the detailed reactions to simple things, the feeling of being a hero at lighting a fire, for example. Good work.

[Ed Hart]

You've got so much juice in your words, you could bottle it and sell it to poets.