Pantoum of the Great Depression
--- Donald Justice
Our lives avoided tragedy
Simply by going on and on,
Without end and with little apparent meaning.
Oh, there were storms and small catastrophes.
Simply by going on and on
We managed. No need for the heroic.
Oh, there were storms and small catastrophes.
I don't remember all the particulars.
We managed. No need for the heroic.
There were the usual celebrations, the usual sorrows.
I don't remember all the particulars.
Across the fence, the neighbors were our chorus.
There were the usual celebrations, the usual sorrows.
Thank god no one said anything in verse.
The neighbors were our only chorus,
And if we suffered we kept quiet about it.
At no time did anyone say anything in verse.
It was the ordinary pities and fears consumed us,
And if we suffered we kept quiet about it.
No audience would ever know our story.
It was the ordinary pities and fears consumed us.
We gathered on porches; the moon rose; we were poor.
What audience would ever know our story?
Beyond our windows shone the actual world.
We gathered on porches; the moon rose; we were poor.
And time went by, drawn by slow horses.
Somewhere beyond our windows shone the world.
The Great Depression had entered our souls like fog.
And time went by, drawn by slow horses.
We did not ourselves know what the end was.
The Great Depression had entered our souls like fog.
We had our flaws, perhaps a few private virtues.
But we did not ourselves know what the end was.
People like us simply go on.
We have our flaws, perhaps a few private virtues,
But it is by blind chance only that we escape tragedy.
And there is no plot in that; it is devoid of poetry.
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/58080/pantoum-of-the-great-depression
No Plot. Devoid of Poetry. That can be said of most everything, which is why we like to tell stories, pretending that everything makes sense and connects, point to point. Which is why we like to tell stories, sitting around after dinner with booze, connecting, point to point, politics and feelings and natural disasters, sitting around after dinner with whiskey, getting a bit risky, a little frisky, theorizing politics and dark feelings and natural disasters with our over-educated imaginations. Getting a little risky, a bit frisky, theorizing conservative conspiracies, apocalypse, retirement, indulging over-educated imaginations and aging livers, blurring the edges of global conspiracies, job loss, impending apocalypse, flabby bodies, hormone drop out, hair loss, inflation, aging livers, drinking to blur the edges of soulless occupations, disconnection, death, stress fat, mental fog, baldness, inflation, anti-intellectual patriotism, social injustice, boring jobs, disconnection, the death of higher ed, a general failure to connect the dots, celebratory ignorance, institutional racism, the grind of acting like anything makes sense, when a universal failure to connect the dots can be said of most everything. It's a joke. And our striving for poetry? Makes us the punchline.
Someone said yesterday that he loves Lizzo. So I started to listen and my soundtrack is, ironically, Lizzo radio. Check it out!
