Gamble Rogers’ Last Show

The man was an architect, he understood
That all the distributions of weight must be
Assessed and distributed properly
Before a plan can be considered good,
And he never forgot that, although his flights
On the fretboard, frolicky and tense
Were both his blueprints and footprints,
Cracker-barrel wisdom, passionate delights:
The “Coat of Many Colors” and many another
To enliven satire, castigate knavery,
Commemorate simple virtue and bravery,
And the song where a boy rescues his brother,
As Gamble himself died trying that day:
“First mistake this year,” he’d smile and say.

**

“David and Goliath!”

Tom Sawyer’s weak grasp of Scripture was shown
In open church; like him, I improvise
My recollection of things known and unknown
From the Good Book, making truth into lies.
Paul said, “Let him become a fool that he
May be wise.” I keep the Philistines
Within the bounds of possibility,
Unlike poor Tom, and what Paul means
Verges perpetually upon comprehension
Sustained by energies I cannot trace
Which urge attentiveness, a suspension
Of distraction, the completion of the race.
More like Tom, alas, than like old Paul,
I fumble in ambivalence, awaiting my call.

**

The Tell-Tale Vegetable

Like a spark in a potato, so
I see my range of prospects glow,
And, aside from bells, no noise
But annihilates all equipoise
And triggers this frightful surmise:
The walls have ears; the spuds have eyes.