January 13: The Offending Poem by Thomas Lux

So, below is the offending poem by Thomas Lux.  It has not been edited.

Saint Marty hopes none of his readers have delicate constitutions.

Poem in Thanks

Lord Whoever, thank you for this air
I'm about to in- and exhale, this hutch
in the woods, the wood for fire,
the light--both lamp and the natural stuff
of leaf-back, fern, and wing.
For the piano, the shovel
for ashes, the moth-gnawed
blankets, the stone-cold water
stone-cold:  thank you.
Thank you, Lord, coming for
to carry me here--where I gnash
it out, Lord, where I'll calm
and work, Lord, thank you
for the goddamn birds singing!

Blame Mr. Lux, not me

January 13: Long Day, Quick Post, Quick "Web" Dip

It has been a very long day.  The start of the semester at the university.  First day of teaching.  I took my daughter to the pediatrician this morning for an ingrown toenail.  That might not sound like such a big deal, but, when you do ballet en pointe, an ingrown toenail is quite a problem.  Then I put together a few handouts for the poetry workshop I'm teaching for the community schools on Monday nights for the next six weeks.  This evening, I delivered one of my last Christmas presents to a friend from the university.  I attended the open house at my daughter's dance studio.  And I taught the poetry workshop.

I think the workshop went alright.  There were a few more participants than I was expecting.  I had five people on my roster this morning.  Tonight, there were eight poets in the room, including me.  Unfortunately, one person (a kind, older gentleman) seemed to get offended very early by the first poem I read to them.  It was a poem by the poet Thomas Lux, and it contains the word "goddamn."  I even prefaced my reading with a warning about the profanity.  However, after I read the poem, this gentleman packed up his belongings and left.

All night long, I've thought and thought about what happened.  My wife, when I told her the story, said, "If he can't take that word, he doesn't belong in a poetry workshop."  I don't think I did anything wrong.  It's not like I read them Sharon Olds' "The Pope's Penis."  It was, basically, a psalm of thanks full of genuine beauty.

Guess I'm going to have to let this one go.  I could fret and meditate on it all night long and still be no closer to any kind of resolution.

So, let me ask Wilbur and crew this question:

Did I offend a nice grandfather at my poetry workshop this evening with the word "goddamn"?

And the little pig says:

Fern nodded.  "I had the best time I have ever had anywhere or any time in all of my whole life."

Hmmm.  I don't think the nice grandfather left because he was having too much fun.  I'm not really buying that response.


And Saint Marty doesn't think it's over yet.  That would be too goddamn easy.

Yup, I offended Mr. Fredricksen