[stylist] Poem - "Boot Fantasia in Three Parts" - Finalist Draft

[William L Houts]

HI Jackie Lee,

It always moves me to learn how you are affected by the work I I submit 
to the group.  I had quite other intentions when I was writing the poem, 
but I don't think that's very important;  I see what you're getting at 
in your interpretation, and it works.  You read and enjoyed the piece, 
and as always I'm grateful for your kindness and intellect.


fond regards,

Bill



On 8/18/2015 11:01 AM, Jackie Williams via stylist wrote:
> Bill,
> You have given new meaning to "boots on the ground."
> Sincerely, in spite of you having written this in '88, it is timely in every way to the current argument that having done it once, we should do it again.
> Your last section also asked the vital question. Will we accept those back into our society, our homes, our hearts, who have worn those boots and return with just parts of themselves.
> I did see Fantasia, and would like to see it again.  I do not make a direct association now with it, other than it was wonderful and moved between the fantastic images of many things.
> My interpretation of your poem may be very lonely, but it jumped into my brain, and I could not turn loose. The second part was so strong also. Those who might want to wear such boots to counter-act what is going on in Iraq
> The original description of the boots stirred my imagination . Then the boots came to life, and blew me away.
>   
>
> Jackie Lee
>
> Time is the school in which we learn.
> Time is the fire in which we burn.
> Delmore Schwartz	
>
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of William L Houts via stylist
> Sent: Monday, August 17, 2015 9:17 AM
> To: Writer's Division Mailing List
> Cc: William L Houts
> Subject: [stylist] Poem - "Boot Fantasia in Three Parts" - Finalish Draft
>
>
>
> Good Morning, Quillmasters and Quillmistresses,
>
> Here's a poem I wrote way back in 1988.  I was doing these epic Poems
> About Everything, and one or two of my poems from this period still seem
> to have legs, from my unabashedly prejudiced view, of course. I haven't
> posted any of these poems anywhere in recent years, as I like to keep
> busy with new work rather than wallow in old bridal gowns, to coin a
> phrase, but it's almost my birthday, so I guess I'm dragging this one
> out for the occasion.
>
> --Bill
>
>
> ---
>
> Boot Fantasia in Three Parts
>
> I.
>
> There are boots in the desert.
>
> The sun has eaten their laces.
>
> The wind has taken their
>
> high black polish.
>
> In places, their soles are thin.
>
> They stand under sand.
>
> I think there’s more than
>
> a pair of them sharing darkness
>
> between those grains of earth,
>
> darkness likeunderground sky.
>
> I don’t know how or why the boots
>
> arrived in the desert.
>
> Maybe they fell from above.
>
> It has happened before:
>
> a torrent of stones
>
> like shards of hard heaven,
>
> a blizzard of toads on snoring towns.
>
> The boots could come down,
>
> a plague we never read about.
>
> Some sad magician’s wonder
>
> of boots from a cloud.
>
> Or maybe the people who live
>
> in the desert are prone
>
> to losing their boots.
>
> Riding strange horses
>
> they come to rest at a shady oasis.
>
> They might loosen their laces
>
> And kick off their boots
>
> to bathe and to drink:and drunk
>
> on the clear dark wines
>
> casked in such cellars of the earth,
>
> they ride off again,
>
> leaving their boots behind.
>
> But never mind that.
>
> These boots are all over the desert,
>
> not just oases, and besides,
>
> I’ve heard that people who
>
> forget things do not survive
>
> long in that place.
>
> II.
>
> It may not matter
>
> where the boots came from.
>
> It may only matter
>
> that I want a pair myself,
>
> boots as black as sharks
>
> and twice as dangerous.
>
> In a pair of boots,
>
> a woman or man can
>
> stride the wide world and
>
> never feel the ambivalent
>
> earth between their toes
>
> A pair of black boots
>
> can make fists of your feet;
>
> their shiny heels
>
> strike holes in the ground
>
> with the sound of
>
> clenched fists on a lecture stand.
>
> III.
>
> I have this notion
>
> or dream of the boots
>
> rising up from the desert
>
> and crossing the ocean:
>
> a parade of old shoes,
>
> a triumph of tatters
>
> through our city gates.
>
> They make muttering noises,
>
> as you might hear
>
> a chorus of voices shouting
>
> down a corridor of seventy or a thousand years.
>
> I don’t know what words
>
> the boots might speak, unless
>
> with cracked black tongues they croak
>
> the verbs which sound the same
>
> in any language.
>
> If the boots came to your door,
>
> would you let them in?
>
> If the boots entered your house,
>
> wouldn’t you put them on?
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>


-- 


"Oh, Sophie!  Whyfore have you eated all de cheeldren?"