TOWN ONE SOUTH
book of poems, awarded a grant from the Michigan Council
for the Arts, has been lauded as a contemporary Spoon
River anthology: it brings back to life the odd
characters in and around the turn of the century town of
Northville, Michigan. This book was commissioned by the
Northville Arts Commission to celebrate Michigan's
Sesquicentennial. This project epitomizes the blossoming
of poetry at the grass roots level where real people
live. These poems are well crafted and present a
satisfying microcosm, a language diorama that will entice
you to look for these characters sitting on park benches
the next time you're in Northville.|
ONE SOUTH is local history spun into evocative
contemporary verse, a unique sesquicentennial
project of the Northville Arts Commission,
supported by the Michigan Council for the
The Detroit Free Press
|"TOWN ONE SOUTH
is certainly one of Michigan's most exciting
sesquicentennial projects ... of interest far beyond the
reach of Northville."
Scott, Poet, Editor of New Issues Press, Western
poet's fourth book portrays the setting and growth of
Northville, Michigan through narratives akin to Masters'
Spoon River Anthology."
Morin, The Detroit News
I was a funeral director,
drying the tears of those left behind,
doing the duties & the comforts,
driving the wagon to Rural Hill
or Cady Street. That was the problem --
the other horses coming up behind
& passing us & I blame my horse,
her proud spirit & gray hide,
She caught the racing fever every time
& we'd speed down the streets,
caskets bouncing, bereaved in shock......."
Wallace Runaway Slave':
We slaves passed on the good
bounty hunters were routed out
from Michigan, empty-handed.
No runaway fish shackled foot to hand
was thrown back to the Deep South.
So I conspired,
another runaway at the Meads Mill.
Heard Cady Inn was good, too
& other homes & farms,
sanctuaries to our borrowed lives......
I sought the rebels in
ate my hardtack rations with forage,
fiddleheads in our greens, squirrel
meat for the stew, hickory nuts,
& pignut tea drawn dark to the tin cup.
A bald eagle we raised from a hatchling
flew away at battle call, our mascot
to return at night to its perch, .....
I returned after the
war to plow my fields,
I see the others lately killed & missing,
& the bright fragments of their bones
piercing battle calls 100 years later.
Their names are on a black marble wall:
Richard Edward Cronk
Robert Arthur Gregory
Gerald Allan Holman
Robert John Regenhardt Jr.
We used to call war,
& walk in the parades
dressed in our Union blues & sword.
O, those many years
A girl waits for the bell,
her thick golden hair like a sheaf
of paper the wind lifts.
Soft straw slipping out of the loft,
blunted half way down to the ground.
Golden cotton layered on her back
& waiting as on a railway siding.
naked in its smoothness,
wild in bluntness, as it it were fingers
hanging down her back in remorse
for the rain, for the brushing:
too loose for taming. No ribbon
can hold it. Straight, thick,
& O, wild.................
from Sun Dog Press: email@example.com $9.00 includes shipping.
432 N. Center Suite 3
Northville, MI 48l67
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