January 2018
David Graham
grahamd@ripon.edu
grahamd@ripon.edu
A native of Johnstown, NY, I retired in June 2016 after 29 years of teaching writing and literature at Ripon College in Wisconsin. I've published six collections of poetry, including Stutter Monk and Second Wind; I also co-edited (with Kate Sontag) the essay anthology After Confession: Poetry as Confession. Essays, reviews, and individual poems have appeared widely, both in print and online. In recent years I've spent nearly as much time on photography as poetry. A gallery of my work is online here: http://instagram.com/doctorjazz
Big Laughers
I may be a nondescript
older gent, but still
a member of the same
tribe as Archimedes
and Thelonious Monk.
There are people who look
sort of like me who have
done amazing things,
like build a whole house
out of hubcaps, or stand
silently on the village green
every Thursday at noon
for years, silently
protesting something
no one can name, until
even my own memory
becomes a bit fuzzy
at the edges, and before
you know it I’ve joined
all those sturdy fellows
in the album with their
bowlers and handlebars.
Vanity of vanities, sayeth
the preacher, but he says it
to the wind, and who
listens to the wind? If you
do you go crazy, like
that man downtown
who goes around praying
to parking meters. He’ll
only talk to dogs and
children, and if a kid asks
him anything he answers
the same thing: You never
know!—alternating that
with Who knows? Not me!—
and his famous laugh. I
belong to the tribe of big
laughers, though I’ll admit
it’s not always out loud.
Big Laughers
I may be a nondescript
older gent, but still
a member of the same
tribe as Archimedes
and Thelonious Monk.
There are people who look
sort of like me who have
done amazing things,
like build a whole house
out of hubcaps, or stand
silently on the village green
every Thursday at noon
for years, silently
protesting something
no one can name, until
even my own memory
becomes a bit fuzzy
at the edges, and before
you know it I’ve joined
all those sturdy fellows
in the album with their
bowlers and handlebars.
Vanity of vanities, sayeth
the preacher, but he says it
to the wind, and who
listens to the wind? If you
do you go crazy, like
that man downtown
who goes around praying
to parking meters. He’ll
only talk to dogs and
children, and if a kid asks
him anything he answers
the same thing: You never
know!—alternating that
with Who knows? Not me!—
and his famous laugh. I
belong to the tribe of big
laughers, though I’ll admit
it’s not always out loud.
©2018 David Graham
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