Yosemite (the poem)

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Yosemite

The sun is slowly leaving
the party that is the day,
things will not be the same.

When he finally tumbles into his room
at the Mariposa Lodge outside of Yosemite
which the Miwok Indians call Ahwahnee
meaning Large Mouth,
Myron turns on the television
to find Patrick Stewart
shouting into the camera in blank verse
and even though Kenneth Branagh is nowhere in sight
he quickly deduces that this is Shakespeare,
Macbeth, in fact, but a strange one,
there are soldiers in Soviet uniforms and a fridge
and of course bad things are happening, off stage.
Then the bottle of Salmon Creek Pinot Grigio
which he had at the Butterfly Café,
starts to take its toll
(‘butterfly’ is the English word for Mariposa),
and lulled by the convolutions of the language
Myron falls asleep and in his dream
Patrick Stewart is staring at him.

“ Brush thy teeth”, Patrick yells,
spittle spraying the inside of the screen.
“Brush thy teeth
lest thou rise
foul of breath
In the sulphurous morn.”

 

This poem appeared a little while back in The Galway Review 

(It’s open link night at dVerse, so thought I’d give this one a bit of exposure)

30 thoughts on “Yosemite (the poem)

  1. Steve Simpson

    All the vivid detail, the facts of the scene, the overtones winding through to a wonderful personal climax that I could picture. To me, this is a very special wryly humorous piece, Jim.

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  2. Brendan

    Just can’t escape that Billy Shakespeare. I’m just waiting for the part in our political drama where someone holds up Trump’s head and says, a la MacDuff, “the time is free.”

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply
  3. Lona Gynt

    I am in the backseat, my daughter is at the wheel, my wife is buried in memes, my son is learning about the GMAT, I am trying out someone I haven’t met on dVerse’s Mister Linky yet. The second incarnation of Khan is on the audio trying to help someone who used to be a werewolf come to terms with a military-industrial complex conspiracy to torture him with a huge drug induced hound. A loud burst of laughter escapes my lips or my mid-section I can’t quite tell which. Everyone, and I mean everyone inquires in some fashion what was so funny. I read the bit and nobody gets it so I start a lengthy explanation of Patrick Stewart isn’t really Captain Picard how he is really a Shakespearean ninja prince, and of course you would deduce that Billy was involved, but what is really funny is how Branagh is no where to be seen, even though he should be because he has been piling up Hamlet’s and Richard’s and Much Ado’s like hotcakes but with more syrup but none of them know who he is so I say he was the second doomed instructor of defense against dark arts, and now my daughter smiles and says that oh yeah, she just thought all of those were just Guildiroy Lockheart just wanting to take credit for those movies, and that makes laugh again but she scowls and says it wasn’t that funny. But gosh I enjoyed your poem, it is much better than the audio which is merely the least of the Sherlock’s. And now my left thumb is sore, so thanks for that too. 👍🏻 💜 😀

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply
  4. teal

    “there are soldiers in Soviet uniforms and a fridge
    and of course bad things are happening, off stage.
    Then the bottle of Salmon Creek Pinot Grigio
    which he had at the Butterfly Café”

    ~This is a very cool section.

    I did know the meaning of “mariposa” already, but I liked you renaming it in English for effect.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply
  5. Pingback: BTT #40: Four Poets You Gotta Read. – Scattered thoughts made a little more random

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