Featured Poetry

Chicago Memories

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Grackles, trees—
I been thinkin’ ’bout ’em all: I been thinkin’ they’re all right:
Nothin’ much—Gosh, nothin’ much against God, even.
God made little apples, a hobo sang in Kankakee,
Shattered apples, I picked you up under a tree, red wormy apples, I ate you….
That lets God out.
There were three green birds on the tree, there were three wailing cats against a green dawn….
‘Gene Field sang, “The world is full of a number of things,”
‘Gene Field said, “When they caught me I was living in a tree….”
‘Gene Field said everything in Chicago of the eighties.
Now he’s dead, I say things, say ’em well, too….
‘Gene Field … back in the lost days, back in the eighties,
Singing, colyumning … ‘Gene Field … forgotten …
Back in Arkansaw there was a green bird, too,
I can remember how he sang, back in the lost days, back in the eighties.
Uncle Yon Swenson under the tree chewing slowly, slowly….
Memories, memories!
There are only trees now, no ‘Gene, no eighties
Gray cats, I can feel your fur in my heart …
Green grackle, I remember now,
Back in the lost days, back in the eighties
The cat ate you.

Companion art: “Eugene Field and His Grackle” by John Farley. Grackle photograph stolen from Bdk/fi

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