Thomas R. Turner (May 23, 1942–November 13, 2014) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
This posting is the second of several I will be sharing from a long poem written by Tom
sometime around 1980 after his wife left him. Today is the fifth anniversary of his death.
24 to Harwood and Cropsy: No Road Back Home
(Taken from a Brooklyn Bus Route and the Title of a Blues Album.)
After my return from the war
I stepped into a world of Kafkaesque embraces; yearning . . .
Paled with particular sensations
I was momentarily blinded.
Biting hues of romanticism blinded me with quixotic hopes I
Stumbled into a Brooklyn routine and parody of intent.
The bare facticity of Brooklyn lives got to you.
Spasms of coughing spontaneous tears
Saw us through Saturday matinee's Saul's Deli and a quart of beer.
Always we were together.
Halluncinatory flashes of a deluge on an
Ocen-Avenue-Saturday running laughing
Around an inundated block.
All those Saturdays in the world waited for two riders on a
Slick tandum
Carrening toward a Coney-Island of anticipations
Fiercely believing in the notion of possibilities.
Not sure I understand it now,but I "understood" then.
Walking to Walbaums one twilight
the first spring
(or the second they were all alike for awhile)
I could taste the t.s. eliot peach that I dared to eat.
Looking at you the way you love the first person
Who ever touched you
And never quite that way again
I savored my idea of you but missed the obvious.
Through the compactness of subway-sundays
We cherished dreams of escape with
Transcripts and belief that college would do it for us.
Ave. J. and jewish-chritmases allowed a diet of
Imcompleteness and knapsacks of disillusioning bohemianism.
We never looked back,
U-Haul got us out with reassurance of
Family.
What a flair for clever imagery! Thanks for sharing Tom’s legacy on this special day.