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My first day leading the prison writing workshop: Carlos
complimented my choosing the chair nearest the door.
I read a poem by Whitman that once sent me hitchhiking
and Carlos stood up, asked to read a section from his four hundred-page work-in progress,
a poem that turns on his first finding Neruda’s “One Year Walk”;
he said it lit up the night like a perfect crime, so I left everything—
I had no choice—walked three thousand miles to the Pacific.
From memory he recited a passage in which his father left the family
a small fortune, all counterfeit: though I doubted the facts, I can still see
that worn briefcase, almost-perfect hundreds stacked neatly in shrink-wrapped packs.
I was young, it took me two weeks to accept that I could teach this lifer
nothing. World of concrete floors and everlasting light:
he was grateful to God who gave him a blazing mind not granted to anyone living or dead,
and wouldn’t have changed a word anyway.
__________
“Carlos” by Theodore Deppe. You’ll find it and other masterworks from Deppe in his collection Orpheus on the Redline.
I snapped the picture in Houston.
There’s more:
- One of my all-time favorites, a chilling look at memory and betrayal — Deppe’s “The Russian Greatcoat”
- A simple reflection on fatherhood: “Wasted” by Kingsley Amis
- My favorite poem: “Those Winder Sundays” by Robert Hayden
Filed under: Poetry Tagged: Carlos, Poem, Poet, poetry, Theodore Deppe Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.
Image may be NSFW.Clik here to view.
Image may be NSFW.Clik here to view.
Image may be NSFW.Clik here to view.
Image may be NSFW.Clik here to view.
Image may be NSFW.Clik here to view.
Image may be NSFW.Clik here to view.
Image may be NSFW.Clik here to view.
