Monday, January 22, 2007

Carthage and Fusion

She would yet make amends
croaking and complaining
the harvest was late
there stood a strange dog
by the wire fence that circled the haystack
a row of red winged girls
clad only in a cause
thin bit of the weekend and of the fright
together shared

To search a muslin
which a pamphlet scarce covered

Blur of homesickness
of many pleasant evenings
the wind sang dismally
sickened blackbirds
like a string of jet beads
waiting for oat structure

She served dinner to a long line of stoppers
she was Lys, and she was
teaching brute spacecraft
along the danger-infested way
known as the Red River frame
and the corners

The guests at table were a typical pioneer group
a joiner at each side
machine men journeying through the country
loudly recommending and gesticulating
forced to take to dairy products
to crab trees
to escape the clutches --

So spent in her little shack
with the same wind making eerie music
of the boys she had not seen
since the winter before
and while she finished the fashion called saddle
she discussed neighborhood matters with them --
the pleasing
see sex unharmed

A huge brute
just the litter bin --
and his foot reached the cliffs when --

Yesterday and today were separated by a gulf
a sizzle of eggs
frying on a hot pan
making a running accompaniment

Whatever can be done to a house
to spoil its appearance
had been done to her words
wide as death itself

She was so close
to selling machinery
to harvesting grain
not yet grown
       - Esme Horseman

The wife of York, who was the life-long Negro servant of Second Lieutenant William Clark, Esme Horseman (1779-1862) was born in the town of Ajaccio on Corsica, France. When she was eight, her family moved to La Nouvelle-Orléans and became successful feather merchants with offices and a warehouse at the Poydras Street Wharf. When York and Esme married, they took her family’s name, du Cheval de Homme, as York never had a proper surname. Upon Mrs. Horseman's death in Louisville, KY, the doctor attending her anglicized the last name for reasons unknown. Her short stories, principles of accounting standards, and poetry were published postmortem by friends of the family with most of her work is attributed to the anglicized version of her name. However, there have been reports of collections published with her original name, making the hunt for her work challenging. Our spoem today was first published in 1906 in the book (I’ll Follow You) To the Ends of the Earth: Prose by the Woman Who Married the Slave-Guy Who Followed the Two Guys Who Explored the Louisiana Purchase in a Canoe, courtesy of The National Council of the Lewis and Clark Bicentennial.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Oh my, wow, I do the very same thing! This is what I made (among many):

The guests at Ms. S's table were a typical pioneer group.
The way Ms. S balanced tea cups on her head, proclaimed her a true artist.
She dropped no stitch along intervals in conversation,
and maintained the binding of omnivorous animals.

I usually add in my own words and make a story or add more cohesion to the nonsense. I have an account madein 2004 which is constantly spammed, so I use it for that. I think there are bots that scour the internet picking up words and phrases to try to fool spam filters. It works..

You should get ahold of me sometime!


3:59 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

same poster from below...

4:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...





7:03 AM  

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