Poetry blogging
Song by B.H. FairchildGesang ist Dasein.
A small thing done well, the steel bit paring
the cut end of the collar, lifting delicate
blue spirals of iron slowly out of lamplight
into darkness until they broke and fell
into a pool of oil and water below.
A small thing done well, my father said
so often that I tired of hearing it and lost
myself in the shop's north end, an underworld
of welders who wore black masks and stared
through smoked glass where all was midnight
except the purest spark, the blue-white arc
of the clamp and rod. Hammers made dull tunes
hacking slag, and acetylene flames cast shadows
of men against the tin roof like great birds
trapped in diminishing circles of light.
Each day was like another. I stood beside him
and watched the lathe spin on, coils of iron
climbing into dusk, the file's drone, the rasp,
and finally the honing cloth with its small song
of things done well that I would carry into sleep
and dreams of men with wings of fire and steel.
Bert Fairchild, 1906-1990
posted by Elizabeth @ 11:51 PM
5 Comments:
Isn't he a muppet?
What? No, he's a poet.
It reminds me of my dad, since he's always (well, as long as I can remember) worked in machine shops. It feels like going to visit him at work, or watching him in the garage when I was six or seven.
We used to listen for the torch to stop ffting before going out in the yard, because my mom claimed that we'd go blind if we looked at the sparks. In retrospect, she probably just didn't want us getting holes burned in our clothes.
Or metal splinters in our feet--my brother and I fought over the really long shavings. I have no idea why. It was a big deal at the time.
Should have saved it for Father's Day, but I thought it appropriate given this week's DW episode.
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Oops. Made a rather rude comment which would have probably gone down better in theory/talk than in writing so swiftly removed it.
I still think it was funny but since the tone of the post/comments is more serious (or so it seems), it had to go.
And, I'd rather fight about another thing than about dads and Bert the muppet. I like both dads (well, mine. I don't know yours :-)
and Bert.
Hm. I make no claims about whether you'd like my dad. Let's just say that when PK is a good thing, it says a bit about your home life.
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