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.