[stylist] Poem - "Drinking" - Second Draft

[William L Houts]

HI Jackie,

It's very kind of you to say the things you say about my poems. 
Especially when you suggest that you learn from my work;  you are most 
gracious, Lady Poet.  Thank you.


--Bill





On 6/16/2015 5:52 PM, Jackie Williams via stylist wrote:
> Bill,
> As usual your poetry grabs me with strong reactions.
> I love your description of water, so invaluable to us in this 115 heat in
> AZ.
> You really made me have a difficult time swallowing when I thought of my
> beloved Manhattans as "Essence of roach!"
> Yes, I was married to a Methodist Minister's son, and he really liked his
> straight shots of Scotch, but never showed the effects.
> Now, I want to throw caution to the winds, go back to several poems of yours
> that I have saved, and answer with one of my own on the same subject. Do not
> know how far I will get.
> You are  a master of unusual images. Probably 65 percent of my stuff is form
> or rhymed poetry. So glad we all have these differences. I learn from you.
>
>
> 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, June 15, 2015 11:02 AM
> To: Writer's Division Mailing List
> Cc: William L Houts
> Subject: [stylist] Poem - "Drinking" - Second Draft
>
>
>
> Hey Friends,
>
> Here's my poetic effort by way of starting the week.  I've titled this
> one "Drinking", although it's long been my intention to write one of
> those long, scholarly Miltonic poems about water; you know, one of those
> poems which explains the world to itself and makes everyone sigh at
> poetry readings.  Or maybe just puts them deeply asleep, LOL.  Comments
> welcome, as always.  I won't even cry too much if you're mean.
>
>
> --Bill
>
>
> ---
>
>
>
> *Drinking*
>
> **
>
> **
>
> Though brother and son to baptismal drunks,
>
> I really don't get it, the thirst,
>
> as if blood cells themselves bellowed
>
> for one hundred proof holy booze.
>
> Burgers and beer, that's my speed, or a shot
>
> every other fifth Sunday. My sins
>
> are upon me, like anyone, I'm not saying else.
>
> But distilled or fermented stuff for me,
>
> is like drinking eclipse or essence of roach:
>
> dark and brittle and bare, and full of don't.
>
> It's water I crave, clear and iced, like melting star,
>
> the sound of yes spun into moon-tongue cold
>
> and poured, with clinking cubes, into my heart,
>
> my parched and grateful heart.
>
>
>
>
>
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-- 


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