Fair Creatures of an Hour

The following are my thoughts on David Kirby's first poem in his recent collection of all-things-old-and-new. The poem is the first in his latest collection entitled "The House on Boulevard St." and is published by Louisiana State University Press in Baton Rouge. If you are interested in purchasing a copy here's where you can do that:

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When I first read this poem I thought, like I do on most first readings, "What the hell is he talking about?" That's usually a good sign that you are on to something though. I figure that if you "get" a poem on the first reading that it's a sure indication that you are either really arrogant or that the poem is shallow, or worse yet that you really don't "get it" like you think you do. (Self deception tastes so good sometimes, eh?) So, after repeated readings of this first Kirby memory poem I feel like I'm ready to make a few stabs at what he could actually be getting at. Oh, and just for the record, if my interpretations are no where near what Kirby (DK) actually meant that's okay. This is after all the beauty of poetry. The reader is permitted to see the strokes of word colors on his own particular canvas, and everyone you must understand has a different imaginative canvas.

This poem is about aging, about hope, life and the inevitable we must all face -death.

The "big stomachs" on the men of the fist line and the observed "brooches" that the ladies at the fortieth high-school reunion are wearing all address something regarding the aging process. A big gut means your dying slowly - a bulbous symbol for all to see that death is imminent. The brooches are of course later on explained in the poem. They are worn by the ladies as perhaps an unspoken symbol that death need not be ugly. Butterflies, flowers, colorful starfish of the sea and pretty golden salamanders ... who thinks of death when they see these??

Of course the walk down memory lane of those who in their misery took their lives and are as a result sadly absent from the reunion is another shot at death and the despair that is associated with it. I like the declarative and interrogative juxtaposed alongside one another with " ... They could have been happy. Didn't they know? Couldn't they have waited? Frederika Moats waited and eventually did land upon what she was looking for. The others ... they checked out too early. There's a phrase somewhere in the book of Ecclesiastes about the connection between life and hope. Death is the end of hope in this life and those who take their own life lose out on what is always potential.

The scene that DK paints for the reader of Antonio Delfini and the death of his father is eerie. To look down and see your father frozen in ice, youthful and locked into the past, and to define your age in the presence of his youthful death is something to think about.

There's much more to say but that's about all for now. This was a good start to this collection of poems.

By the way, I actually wrote to David Kirby and we exchanged a couple of emails. He was in Italy at the time teaching a class for several weeks. He was very down to earth.

That's all folks! Go buy this book! Then YOU can tell ME what you think these poems mean.