rain has returned
Some days will be rainy and you will sit waiting
And the letter you wait for won’t come,
And I will sit watching the sky tear off gray and gray
And the letter I wait for won’t come.
I’ve always wanted to dislike the poetry of Carl Sandburg. Not for any valid reason, I’m embarrassed to say. I wanted to dislike his work because when I was young and in school I was forced to listen to a recording of him reading some of his poems. He sounded so Midwestern and sincere—so corn-fed and homespun—that I took an instant dislike to him. Also, in the accompanying photograph, his hair stuck up in funny places.
I try to dislike his work. But I keep accidentally coming across something he wrote, usually a poem. And there’s always—always—something there that seizes hold of me and rattles around in my brain like pea in a pan. It forces me time and again to admit to myself that the sumbitch could write. And just yesterday I learned he’d driven a milk-wagon as a boy, and worked as coal heaver and a bricklayer. Honest, solid labor. And he met his wife at a Socialist rally. And his brother-in-law? Edward Steichen. It’s getting more and more difficult to dislike the man’s work.
Some days will be rainy and the letter I waited for has arrived—and for some reason I’m reluctant to accept delivery.
Photo "6733908621" not found (invalid ID)Photo "6733908621" not found (invalid ID)Blog photograph copyrighted to the photographer and used with permission by utata.org. All photographs used on utata.org are stored on flickr.com and are obtained via the flickr API. Text is copyrighted to the author, greg fallis and is used with permission by utata.org. Please see Show and Share Your Work
