Tuesday, November 25, 2008

She Knew Him, When

A few years ago, the Matron met a poet named Greg Watson through a mutual friend.

Greg is the Matronly Prototype and Reminder that one never knows where talent hides. Take that grocery bagger? Could be the next classical pianist in training. The 20-something with a day job as a preschool teacher? Singer-songer writer aka Billy Joel's Piano Man, at night. (and wow that video now looks pretty chee-z even if the song STILL gives her chills)

Then there's Greg, who works as a security guard at the Mother Ship of the Great Unwashed Minnesota Masses -- The Target Center. So there's Greg, playing Shift Supervisor to thousands at concerts and tractor-pulling events.

And when he's done? He writes poetry that's so good, Garrison Keillor picks this poem to be on Writer's Almanac:


I told you once when we were young that
we would someday meet again.
Now, the years flown past, the letters
unwritten, I am not so certain.

It is autumn. There are toothaches hidden
in this wind, there are those determined
to bring forth winter at any cost.
I am resigned to dark blonde shadows

at stoplights, lost in the roadmaps of leaves
which point in every direction at once.
But I am wearing the shirt you stiched
two separate lifetimes ago. It is old

and falling to ash, yet every button blooms
the flowers of your design. I think of this
and I am happy, to have kissed
your mouth with the force of language,

to have spoken your name at all.

Goosebumps! Chills! She is that taken with this poet! The best part? ALL of his work is that good! It continues to amaze her, how much talent there is in the world, unrewarded, how much art we aren't seeing.

Now, the Matron isn't much of a pitcher. In fact, she cannot even find the time to pimp her own darn blog. (feel free to do that for her whispers the pathetic attention seeking child stored in her belly) But she thinks that there's nothing lovelier and more personal than giving poetry as a gift--a wildly inexpensive way to hand over the world, isn't it?

The book is The Distance Between Two Hands. The genius is Greg Watson. The vehicle? You can find the book on Amazon and at marchstreetpress.


Anonymous said...

The gift of poetry really is something special, and I am not nor have I ever been much of a poetry fan. But recently I won another blogger's contest, the prize for which was... a poem! I was amazed and awed and honored at what the writer gave me.

She She said...

Thanks for the lead. I love giving -- and getting -- poetry. And that poem was lovely. The kind of poem you'd like someone to write about you.

Balou said...

Gave me goosebumps too. I'll be adding that one to my wish list. So, if I buy myself a gift, is that giving a gift in the third person?

phd in yogurtry said...

Beautiful and moving in an aching sort of way. Thanks for the glimpse. I love listening to GK's writer's almanac.

Anonymous said...

Always happy to find another talented poet to follow. Bonus points that he's local!

Fortune Cookies said...

I followed your from Mrs.G's and I'm so glad I did. What a wonderful little corner of the blogosphere you've been hiding here! I'll gladly pimp you on my blog! Not that I get that much attention...
That poem was stunning. Thanks for sharing it. I'm off to look for more work by him.

Daisy said...

toothaches hidden in this wind....amazing.

thefirecat said...

Yum. Poems. :)

Cha Cha said...

That poem ... OMG.

I am speechless.

Dear Matron, thank you for sharing this incredible talent!

JCK said...

Thank you so much for sharing this poem. It is a gift. As is the idea of a book of poems...

Toot your own horn anytime. You deserve to sing!

Jenn @ Juggling Life said...

The Writer's Almanac is always amazing. What a gifted poet.

Jocelyn said...


Thanks for sharing.

BipolarLawyerCook said...

Beautiful. Thank you.

poetress said...

What a truly beautiful poet. His words are so eloquent. This book would fit perfect in any Christmas stocking. I definitely need to read more from this poet. I wonder if he is married?

Taylor said...

Simply, in the pond that is Greg Watson I am a leaf--content to go where his waters flow and "the movement a symbol of the hand."

In his deep waters an abundance of metaphors swim. The reader can swirl, dive, float among them grabbing handfuls of seasons. Watson's "water" gathers as snow, rain, clouds. Find it in swamps or perhaps dribbling down windows or as blood coursing through veins, Watson invites readers to immerse themselves, aware that an outstretched hand is nigh.

Line in quotes above is from Watson's poem “The Sculptress” on p 30 of The Distance Between Two Hands . These thoughts have been shared on my facebook page as well under Goodreads.