Jeff Vande Zande: “I guess I was reading a lot of student papers in which students were compelled to try to make their papers sound ‘better’ by using the thesaurus. For instance, one student had been arguing why people should take up jogging and then, in the middle of the paper, started arguing why people should take up cantering. I thought it might be funny to rewrite a Frost poem under the premise that Frost was a thesaurus abuser. Then, after reading it, Tim Green said, ‘I like it, Jeff, but can you make it rhyme?’ That’s three hours of my life that I’ll never get back!” (web)
Peter Krass: “With my own poems superbly insulating a couple of desk drawers, I couldn’t help but notice how my favorite literary journals were being dominated by just a few well-known poets. The same six or seven names seemed to be everywhere, taking up all the literary oxygen and leaving none for me. Suffocation being a strict taboo in my religion, I instead wrote ‘All Dressed in Green’ and have been breathing freely ever since.”
“The Fruit Detective” by Lola HaskinsPosted by Rattle
Lola Haskins
THE FRUIT DETECTIVE
On the table, there are traces of orange blood. There is also a
straight mark, probably made by some kind of knife. The
detective suspects that by now the orange has been sectioned,
but there is always hope until you’re sure. He takes samples.
Valencia. This year’s crop. Dum-de-dum-dum.
The detective puts out an APB. Someone with a grudge
against fruit. Suspect is armed and should be considered
dangerous. He cruises the orchards. Nothing turns up except a
few bruised individuals, probably died of falls.
A week passes. There are front page pictures of the orange.
No one has seen it. They try putting up posters around town.
Still nothing. The detective’s phone rings. Yes, he says. And Yes,
thanks. I’ll be right over. Another orange. This time they find
the peel. It was brutally torn and tossed in a wastebasket.
Probably never knew what hit it, says the detective, looking
sadly at the remains.
There is a third killing and a fourth. People are keeping
their oranges indoors. There is fear about, that with oranges
off the streets the killer may turn to apples or bananas. The
detective needs a breakthrough. The phone rings. If you want
to know who killed the oranges, come to the phone booth at the
corner of 4th and Market, says the voice.
The detective hurries on his coat. When he gets to the
booth, the phone is already ringing. It is the egg. I did it, says
the egg, and I’ll do it again. The detective is not surprised. No
one else could have been so hard-boiled.
Lola Haskins: “As a kid I loved the way Jack Webb (whose hat I also loved) used to say ‘Just-the-facts-ma’am.’ I had a really good time writing this in that spirit. And I won’t regret eating the egg, not one bit; after all, he’s already hardboiled. I do, however, feel sorry for the oranges so I said a few kind words to the one I had for breakfast this morning. And, having suffered through my little ditty, I’m sure the reader will be relieved to know that my book coming out in June has nothing to do with fruit.” (web)
Rick Lupert: “Once I met Art Garfunkel. I handed him a small journal and told him it was a book of my thoughts. He wrote in it ‘Rick, I’m your next thought.’ Soon after I lost this journal. I continue to write thoughts, in the form of poems, in the event I might run into him again and bring closure to that embarrassing loss. I’ve since published twelve poetry collections. I also organize the Poetry Super Highway, an online resource and publication for poets. The mission of these projects is to expose as many people to as many other people’s poetry as possible. The secret mission is to prepare people, in case they run into Art Garfunkel.” (web)
Marsh Muirhead: “We have an island in the Mississippi here, three acres of pine and birch, surrounded by the flowing river, the sounds of loons, crickets, owls. My literary and musical friends have declared it The Island Republic. In a hammock, under the influence of wood smoke and an excellent Merlot, I achieved the tranquility in which I was able to recollect the powerful emotions surrounding the situation which, then, gave rise to this poem.” (web)
