"Those were hard things for me to come by, and I offer them to you for what they may be worth." - Toby Wolff
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Old Man Gutter
As long as I can remember he is sweeping the gutters.
They are immaculate, those gutters.
as if his children would eat
from that trough, the sewage of the streets.
I can think of many things I should clean
but the street falls short.
His hair was brown
but it ran down the handle of his broom and into the grate
that said "no dumping" with a cobalt stencil of a fish.
I ain't never seen a cobalt fish
but it makes as much sense as all that sweeping I guess.
In the morning he swept
In the afternoon he swept
And in the evening, oh that poor damn leaf
having loosed itself of the branch
resting peacefully from aerial life,
he swept
the last vestige of its color right down the drain
where mysterious cobalt fish now play slap jack with rebellious leaves.
swish swish s w i s h
and his own joy along with it.
His hair is now gray,
as flat and lifeless as the gutter he rid
of everything it tried to gather.
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This is an exceptional poem. A theme that is important to me -- entropy, futility -- arises here and is deftly conveyed. A touch of surrealism also helps to make me "happy" here. Others can pursue possible metaphors about forlorn regrets and drained memories. That's fine. For me, though, this goes deeper -- a meditation on piquant absurdity and the equivocal nature of experience.
ReplyDeleteI remember an old guy in the old neighborhood that would rake his roof in the fall. LOL!
ReplyDeleteYou really capture the sense of futility, and yet contrast it rather subtly against his sense of (misplaced?) purpose.
ReplyDeleteAnother well done verse. Thank you.
There is something to be said for useless chores. Add a little heart and you've got an act of love.
ReplyDeleteOne can become a saint through sweeping the gutter. Of course one can't become a saint without joy. So you had it right all along.
Tim - Yes, futility has been on my mind. Every time I drive by, I mentally shake my head. Tomorrow the leaves will fall, and the day after that, and in summer there will be flower petals and dead bees. So what? Leave them. Go hug a dog, have a cup of coffee with a stranger. It would seem this is his vocation, hobby and purpose. How very sad.
ReplyDeleteEric - There is purpose to cleaning the rain gutters. If we think not, we are proven wrong on the first heavy rain. Cleaning street gutters all day is futile.
Matt - If he didn't look so damned grumpy I might ask him "why?". His very expression is as off putting as his task. Now that I think about it, his house has turned the same drab dull color as the cement.
Andreas - If there is joy in the task, or any kind of love it is hidden. I suppose it would not make such a daily impression on me if it looked like he enjoyed it. He's almost angry that another leaf has fallen.
This is a perfect Autumn poem, Annie, full of melancholy, loss with just a touch of bittersweetness. We woke up to a light, cooling rain today, then a cold wind blew up and is blowing the leaves off the trees. It's magical. Love you!!! xoxo
ReplyDeletePS: Our city has huge street sweeping machines that go up and down the city streets. It still looks like a lonely, boring job...but to each his own, right?
@Marion - We have those ridiculous sweepers too! But at least they aren't sweeping 24-7! Most of our leaves are still hanging on. It's only been since blogging, that I realized how far behind the seasons California is!
ReplyDeleteI love this, and I hate it. I see and have seen so many I care about doing variations of the same thing. Of course they think I’m crazy, or pretentious, or putting them down, by not doing the same.
ReplyDeletepeople do this. (?) i live in a low maintenance town. we barely plow the snow from the roads in the winter. but i am with andreas. i can see value here. none of us every really gets ahead of where we start from. perhaps we shouldn't expect to. but where it is lost, as you say, is in his disgruntled manner. if he were serene, i might join him:)
ReplyDeletexo
erin
@ Anthony - I love this. I hate this. Not sure I've ever gotten a better compliment on a piece. Thank you!
ReplyDelete@ Erin - Exactly. Sometimes I wonder if in more rural areas, the craziness is more hidden, or perhaps it is less existent? Here is the heart of a city, all the weirdness lives on porches, street corners, corner pubs. Seems 'crazy' has no desire for privacy. And you may ask...is it truly lunacy? Well, I've heard it's the definition of insanity to do the same thing over and over and expect different results. Street gutters ain't never gonna be clean. Even so, if he were to so much as grin in my direction, sure...I might join in the craziness. Wouldn't be the first time.
quite the piece here hey someone once told me if I can't pick up a broom because of what I've learned then I really didn't learn anything at all
ReplyDelete@ Lorraine - It isn't beneath me to pick up a broom, or scrub a toilet, or change the tampon of a woman with useless arms. Quite the opposite. But when your whole life is one continuous futile action....it just makes me sad. He and his broom did teach me something!
ReplyDeleteI think I got high in college with him.
ReplyDeletei like how you recognize his own joy in his ritual, or maybe addiction. whatever. some of our most precious activities look so foolish to others, and perhaps are.
ReplyDeleteyou can't make order out of chaos. nature insists on that truth, and nature is chaotic.
ReplyDeleteso are healthy hearts.
great poem ms ww annie. how well you paint the futility and ocd-ness. as the world and good people pass by.
you make me want to write poetry again. i'm holding you responsible.
with love,
please look for me,
:^)
kj
Nice job capturing the loss of joy that comes when you lose focus on why it is you are doing something. LOVE it!
ReplyDelete,,tis why I visit perhaps. I don't have a dog to hug but my coffee seems to go just fine with "Wine" in the morning.
ReplyDelete@Travis - You look really young for 70-something!
ReplyDelete@Ed - Addiction is more likely.
@KJ - Brilliant. Nature insists on that truth! Sure as hell. If anyone can write OCD, it would be me :) I promise to take full responsibility for your poetry. I'll keep an eye out and a light on.
@Peggy - That's something really important for me to remember. I keep trying to focus on NOW. There is joy. NOW. I lose focus a LOT!
@Glenn - Wine and Coffee hour? I like it. Especially at sunrise.
I'm fascinated by this poem, because that's what I do when I'm feeling frustrated, down, melancholy, I clean and clean ... just to stay in motion.
ReplyDelete@Matt D - I clean too, when angst is too great to sit with. But never the same thing over and over. If everything gets cleaned, then I'll sit and rock myself back and forth. It is a movement that comforts me. I imagine it looks pretty pitiful though.
ReplyDeletesometimes we can get caught up in erasing away all that matters, all that is truly who we are,
ReplyDeletebecoming compulsively "clean" or "right"
enjoyed the bluesy vibe.
btw, will you email me? i can't seem to get an email through to you. no rush, i just want to know i can.
ReplyDelete♥
kj
Ah, I love a good s w i s h. It's like a wish with a "swwww"
ReplyDeleteThis is just TOO GOOD!
ReplyDeleteI love this verse:
"In the morning he swept
In the afternoon he swept
And in the evening, oh that poor damn leaf
having loosed itself of the branch
resting peacefully from aerial life,
he swept"
Everything is so vivid x) remarkable poem
I have a character like that but with a shovel. Not sure why we're so attracted to people who can do one thing ~really well~ their entire life. Maybe for those of us who are OCD-ADD, who never quite settle into a single identity, the thought of being one person your entire life is both mysterious and romantic, with a strange sense of purposefulness to it.
ReplyDeleteMe, I like having the attention span of a hummingbird.
- Eric
painful....and we have made the world one....that nobody is prepared to clean....hope you have been good...and breathing well in this decaying air....
ReplyDelete