Richard Garcia

March 25, 2024

“Tabletop Pantoum” by Gail Dawson & Richard GarciaPosted by

Gail Dawson & Richard Garcia

TABLETOP PANTOUM

The calendar is on the table
next to the three-hole punch.
The coffee is cold in the cup.
There is a jar holding pens.
 
Next to the three-hole punch
two Aztec jars are sitting.
There is a jar holding pens.
A woman is writing on a computer.
 
Two Aztec jars are sitting—
did the jars once hold ashes?
A woman is writing on a computer,
searching for something lost.
 
Did the jar hold ashes?
One jar with a coupon sticking out.
Searching for something lost,
a woman turns her gaze inward. 
 
One jar with a coupon sticking out.
There is a magnifying glass on the table.
A woman turns her gaze inwards. 
She sees a maelstrom of blank pages.
 
There is a magnifying glass on the table.
A little girl is at the computer.
She sees a maelstrom of blank pages.
She needs her mother’s help.
 
A little girl is sitting at the computer.
The table is her life raft.
She sees a maelstrom of blank pages.
There is a calendar on the table.
 

—from Rattle #83, Spring 2024
Tribute to Collaboration

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Gail Dawson & Richard Garcia: “We wrote this poem based on the objects on the table right in front of us. Richard wrote the first stanza and Gail wrote the next stanza. We proceeded writing alternate stanzas until we felt it was finished. We were surprised how a poem could be written just using the objects right in front of us.”

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January 29, 2017

“The Sublime” by Richard GarciaPosted by

Richard Garcia

THE SUBLIME

Now, when they remember it, they think that perhaps they had heard the approach of the sublime—like a distant hum of huge machinery, long before it arrived. As it drew closer there was no mistaking it as hundreds of swaths of trees in the forest across the valley lay down in supplication. Some of the survivors describe it as an approaching shadow. Some say it became midnight in the afternoon, and they saw constellations they had never seen before or since. Others say it was a conflagration, the air was on fire, houses and trees exploding before the flames even touched them. Some say the sublime was ice, or even just a deep silence. They only thing survivors agree on is that they could not take their eyes off of it. If there had been music, and some say there was, it would have been The Ride of the Valkyries. And they stood there, their weapons like toys dangling from their hands, staring up at the advancing sublime. Shit, they said, and fuck, and God, they said, my God.

—Poets Respond
January 29, 2017

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Richard Garcia: “‘A terrible beauty has been born.’ —Yeats” (website)

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November 13, 2016

“Canada” by Richard GarciaPosted by

Richard Garcia

CANADA

A dying Alaskan anarchist pleads to be buried in Canada.
Escaped slaves follow the drinking gourd toward Canada.

Blacks who fought for the British escape to Canada.
Tories pack their wigs and head for Canada.

Convicts on the lam from chain gangs limp into Canada.
Statues of the founding fathers thumb rides to Canada.

Young men fleeing the draft tiptoe into Canada.
Penniless drifters drift across the border into Canada.

Strange freight, Henry in a box, Special Delivery to Canada.
Fragile, handle with care, use no hooks—Canada.

Chief Joseph’s men in running battle toward Canada.
I will fight no more forever—almost Canada.

Not knowing Spanish, defeated confederates flee to Canada.
Bank robbers and bankers with their loot slip into Canada.

Confounding Texas Rangers, Gregorio Cortez turns north—O Canadá.
His little brown mare trot, trot, trotting all day—Ay! Canadá.

After seeing the elephant, forty-niners contemplate Canada.
John Brown cries war and Frederick Douglass excuses himself to Canada.

Warehouses of Jewish possessions at Auschwitz are called Kanada.
Piles of shoes, silverware, wedding rings, suitcases, gloves—Kanada.

Bob Hope, Bing Crosby, Dorothy Lamour on the road to Canada.
Returning formations of Canada Geese tip their wings over Canada.

Low on gas, buses full of seniors clutching prescriptions roll into Canada.
Watching the election returns, tenured professors consider Canada.

After Little Big Horn, Crazy Horse leads his people to Canada.
Washington crossing the Delaware rows for Canada.

General Custer, asleep under the stars on his last night, dreams of Canada.
Columbus, asleep with his head on the tiller, dreams of Canada.

—Poets Respond
November 13, 2016

[download audio]

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Richard Garcia: “The poem considers the dream of Canada as a place of escape or refuge for Americans throughout our history.” (website)

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May 7, 2012

“Just Like Two People” by Richard GarciaPosted by

Richard Garcia

JUST LIKE TWO PEOPLE

I got out of bed like a decomposing century of death. I had been in a dream in which we were together like a steel daisy and a rose made of razor wire. Then I took a shower, all the while thinking of you, and my thoughts were a robin frozen on your lawn or maybe like a snowman in a blizzard. So I drove to work which is actually next door to the bedroom. My office reminded me of a bloodsoaked hairdresser, at least that’s what I thought until I wrote a poem that hit me on the head like a book falling out of the sky. Later I rode my bike through the park that was like a hot iron I thought was unplugged. All the bare trees made me think of Vlad the Impaler, but the birds were chirping like explosions in reverse. Or was it bald trees, or bards, or tresses instead of trees? Bike—poem—thoughts of you—all in all a successful day. Time for a nap and I slept like a duck in a phone booth. Again, I dreamt of you, picking up where we had left off. You and I together just like … like shards of falling glass. Except that I was just like two people, someone named you and a person named I. Once again my brain waited for me to wake like the basket waiting beneath the guillotine. But it was too late, already I had fallen through the trapdoor of interviewing myself. I was also a panel on Keeping the Faith. I was the audience too. Sometimes bored and skeptical of my answers, sometimes amused, but cautiously so, like a lion tamer with narcolepsy.

—from Rattle #28, Winter 2007

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Richard Garcia: “My fourth grade teacher asked if anyone could tell a story. I stood up and began a long story about my family’s journey to California in a wagon train. I began it by saying, ‘I was born very young.’ It contained many adventures, wild Indians, and stampedes. It was as new to me as it was to the rest of the class. I liked telling a story I had never read or heard, and I liked not having the slightest idea of what I was going to say next. That may have been my first poem.” (web)

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December 18, 2010

“A Poem By Andy Rooney” by Richard GarciaPosted by

Richard Garcia

A POEM BY ANDY ROONEY

How about these paperclips?
Consider the humble paperclip.
Paperclips do not like to remain in their containers.
Paperclips can be found at the bottom of the sea.
The first paperclip was made of mastodon ivory.
Some paperclips are covered in plastic.
Some paperclips are plastic.
Metal paperclips are desirable.
You can twist them while on the phone.
You can use one to pick your teeth.
It is not recommended to use a paperclip to pick your teeth.
A paperclip can unlock a handcuff.
A paperclip cannot unlock a plastic handcuff.
Last time I mentioned paperclips
I received boxes of paperclips in the mail.
Here are some candy paperclips.
You can use them to attach important papers together.
You can eat candy paperclips.
Paperclips are like some marriages.
They clip things together temporarily.
Please don’t send me any more paperclips.
You can use paperclips to brush your eyebrows.
It is a little known fact, but every computer
has a secret tiny hole somewhere on its body
into which you can insert a straightened paperclip.
Usually, a frozen computer will start up again
when you insert the unfolded paperclip into its tiny, secret hole.
Your IT guy at the office would rather you did not know
about the tiny, secret paperclip hole in your computer.
Paperclips have been sprinkled into space by scientists.
Paperclips ring the planet. Some planets have rings of ice,
boulders, bits of exploded comet, purple and yellow meteor dust.
Our planet has a ring of millions of paperclips.
Recently it had been noticed that the paperclips
are joining together, each clip attaching to each clip
forming a paperclip chain in the ionosphere.
Maybe Mankind could learn something from all
the paperclips that have fallen into remote corners of our offices.
Here are some biodegradable paperclips made of recycled paper.
Here are some paperclips made of compressed diamond dust.
Here is a paperclip I have carried in my pocket since 1944.
It saved my life at Omaha beach by deflecting a sniper’s bullet.
As you can see by its girth, they don’t make paperclips like they used to.

—from Rattle #33, Summer 2010
Tribute to Humor

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Richard Garcia: “One afternoon in the summer of 1994 I was driving to work and I heard Garrison Keillor read what he said was a good poem on The Writer’s Almanac. Inspired, I thought, Hell, I should be able to write a better poem than that. I pulled my car over and wrote three poems. I had to. I was late for work and lost my job. But since then I still have to write poems.” (web)

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