MERCEDES WEBB-PULLMAN : Seeking the Real Fidel poetryrepairs #199 v14.04:037 #1 For Me All Nights are Stormy #2 First Love, First Loss #3 Slowly I Learn about War |
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#1 For Me All Nights are StormyI will never be acknowledged by the Angel who is my father; I take my servant mother's name and the shame of illegitimacy. While I still swim inside her my mother knows 13, she knows I am the son of Aggayu so Santeria priests shave her head in April sacrifice sheep, two cocks a tortoise for Chango and initiate me still in her womb. Between two hurricanes turning nearby while gales and floods tear up the orange groves and turn the sky red; with all the windows of the house on stilts in the middle of cane fields rattling on August 13 1926 at 2 am I am born. At dawn around the tamarind tree spanning the farmyard near Biran flattened sugar cane, sheep and cows, even people float, no longer alive but the new bastard thrives. poetryrepairs #199 v14.04:037 |
All the fine arts are species of poetry--Samuel Taylor Coleridge
poetry repairs your heart even as it splits it open. VIRGINIA WOOLF The Art of Reading Our Dancing Poet Logo! FIND GIFT BUY GIFT http://www.zazzle.com/poetryrepairshop The FIDEL SUITE |
#3 Slowly I Learn about WarPoor little bastard, permanently shut out of my father's world of bourgeoisie; ignorant land owners superior to me in every way because my parents aren't married, not allowed to take communion because I haven't been baptised. My classmates call me Jew. I'm always fighting now, rebellious and arrogant,. I fight my way to expulsion first year of high school at Our Lady of Dolores in Santiago the year my father divorces his first wife but doesn't marry my mother; I still can't be received into the church. At school I learn conviction and character never fight to lose and don't let them up when they're beaten but the Brothers move me on when I almost scalp a classmate and send me to Havana, Belen School, still instructed by Jesuits, all Spanish priests. I swim, play ball, shoot hoops, win a special sports medal, become a polished and inveterate liar but I do save a teacher from drowning. I break my nose when I ride a bicycle downhill at a wall for a dare and wear a bandage for weeks. It never heals properly. The second world war happening somewhere else is good for me, in Cuba, growing safely on the outskirts of the world. poetryrepairs #199 v14.04:037 |
Poetry endangers the established order of the soul - Plato REPAIR: resort, frequent or habitual going; concourse or confluence of people at or in a place; making one's way; to go, betake oneself, to arrive; return to a place; to dwell; to recover, heal, or cure; to renew; to fix to original condition. -- Oxford English Dictionary TOP |
Seeking the Real Fidel : #1 For Me All Nights are Stormy by : #2 First Love, First Loss MERCEDES WEBB-PULLMAN : #3 Slowly I Learn about War thank you for reading poetryrepairs #199 v14.04:037 |
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