MORE GOLF POETIX
As a result of how internet searching unfolds, a golfer found his way to Galatea Resurrects' current issue due to this golf (dis)course in the Comments section of my Editor's Introduction. The golfer has no particular interest in poetry...but has a daughter who does. And so this father read through Galatea Resurrects, and later was able to recommend Galatea Resurrects to his child. Subsequently, they had something rare for them: a conversation about poetry.
Against that result, I care less about certain issues, viable though they might be. For instance, what makes good criticism. Or whether Galatea Resurrects is as prestigious a critical journal as ____. Or whether Galatea Resurrects needs to take a stand for the avant-ish brand. Only one flag rises above Galatea Resurrects, Peeps, and it is the pure Love represented by dogs, not your gods.
Sip. The 1994 Mondavi reserve cabernet...And now, to make your weekend a ball -- here's a golf ball of a poem by LeClerc!
A Nonnet for Eileen Tabios and her husband (whatever the hell his name is!)
Bogart n Lupino in High Sierra.
Eileen n’ guy down da Mex’kin Riviera,
holed up in La Hotel Grandé.
World class golf course beckons.
Hubby’s a duffer - yuh know – golf handy.
Tabios’ gotta learn. That’ll take nanoseconds.
Turns out golf’s a revelation.
I dint read dat in no New Testament,
but La Presidenté de La Galatea Nation
ephiphanizes bout green eagle birdie sacraments,
knows da bogey (Humphrey?), and da beauty (Ida?).
Did E n’ G walk da course, or take-a motor-driven golf cart rider?
Jayo’s glad da Galatea twosome are on to Tiger’s game.
LeClerc’ jus gotta fists n football history,
but he knows, he surely, surely, surely knows da glory,
and so many, many stories bout da majestic Golden Bear n Señor Pablo Neruda’s name.
Composed with affection and respect (Really. Goddamit!)