Well, now– It was in the spring of ‘49 just ‘round
Memorial Day in the Land O’ Freedom… or so they
call it. Anyways, I was sittin’ up behind them hills…
Y’know, nexta where God ‘n’ Hell musta had some
sorta fuss or ‘nother. Sorta desert. Sorta not.
And I was pannin’ fer rhymes– I kept comin’ up dry–
when alluvasudden straight outta the ground there’s
this tinklin’, twinklin’ musical sound. So I grabbed me
a panful and gave it a twitch. Some verbs and an adjective
peppered the dish. Good stuff, I s’pose. Fer a yarn they’d
bin fine, but not fer perfessional-lookers-fer-rhymes.
I swished ‘em a little and shook ‘em again to see if that
tinklin’ mightn’t be kin to the one that I found in the gully
that night. It’d had to be good, or it wouldn’t fit right.
Them poets won’t shell-out fer less than a pair cuz one
by itself leaves ‘em pullin’ their hair. So ya gotta find more
than a couple that fit or poets ‘ll fake it and some ‘ll just quit
and some ‘ll just hope no one says that it’s… Y’ know…
Call ‘emselves “nou-veau” and claim it’s legit.
‘Nuffa that, I s’pose.
I looks fer them twinklin’ musical words that rhymes like
the first time they’s ever been heard. I sure ain’t the first one
that’s panned in them hills. My pappy before me turned up
a few thrills and somewhere or ‘nother done found a whole line.
But me, I ain’t happy unless it’ll rhyme. They’re there, I can
hear ‘em– they tickle the breeze! I’ll stick it out long as there’s
poets to please. If y’ expected a yarn, or to hear miners cuss–
I’s pannin’ fer rhymes and not dirt in the dust!
Hmph, what’s that ya got there?
Kevin Taylor is a Western Canadian poet, storyteller and accidental lexicographer. First published in 1974. Several chapbooks slouch on his bookshelf where they mark “the sudden grey of decades passing.”