.
Washington Street under the El, looking toward Egleston Square: photo by Ernst Halberstadt (1910-1987) for U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, February 1973 (National Archives and Records Administration)
talking to strange men on the subway,
doesn't see me when she gets on,
...........at Washington Street
but I hide in a booth at the side
.....and watch her worried, strained face --
..the few years she has got left.
.....Until at South Station
....I lean over and say:
..I've been watching you since you got on.
.......She says in an artificial
..........voice: Oh, for Heaven's sake!
....as if heaven cared.
But I love her in the underground
......and her gray coat and hair
sitting there, one man over from me
......talking together between the wire grates of a cage.
John Wieners (1934-2002): My Mother, from The Ages of Youth in Ace of Pentacles (1964)
doesn't see me when she gets on,
...........at Washington Street
but I hide in a booth at the side
.....and watch her worried, strained face --
..the few years she has got left.
.....Until at South Station
....I lean over and say:
..I've been watching you since you got on.
.......She says in an artificial
..........voice: Oh, for Heaven's sake!
....as if heaven cared.
But I love her in the underground
......and her gray coat and hair
sitting there, one man over from me
......talking together between the wire grates of a cage.
John Wieners (1934-2002): My Mother, from The Ages of Youth in Ace of Pentacles (1964)
Elevated railroad structure and blighted area below Washington Street, looking south from the corner of Bartlett, Boston, Massachusetts: photo by Ernst Halberstadt (1910-1987) for U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, February 1973 (National Archives and Records Administration)
5 comments:
Beautiful poem and photos enjoyed from this side of the dashboard. Hope all is well with you, Tom.
Thanks very much, Jonathan.
Could do with an entirely new physical package -- the Beta version as is said now -- otherwise or anyway, in despite, life goes on, sort of.
Lovely post chez vous today, clear and calmative.
Sending all good feelings to you across the great dividing dashboard, as ever.
That final line is the punch: the cage that travels, Point A to B, all stops in between -- all manners of family and modes of transport -- punctuated by the whistling of way stations -- and played out for the voyeurs looking elsewhere and oblivious taking notes.
Tom, that is an incredible post. I had just been saying to a friend, Wieners is a terrific poet, but I often feel cut out of his world, and then he nails me to the train floor, his patient piercing hollowing out the sadness so that it is almost funny (arch grin). And the photos brought back specific places I've been — in life and dream. Thank you.
Wherever do you get your inspiration from? This site is just awesome! I am really keen on finding out more. Please keep me updated periodically as I would this is too good to miss!
Regards,
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