The young veteran — a double
amputee — is still learning how
to pilot a wheelchair. He stops
a few feet from the concrete lip
of the pond, gazing across at
a sycamore shining in the sun.
His eyes travel down the trunk
& into the water, the shadow
going one way, the reflection
another. A carp slides under
the flesh-toned bark. Meanwhile,
his flannel shirt has turned into
a screen for reflected sunlight,
dazzling the mallards crowding
around his chair. He glances
down at the dancing shadows
on his chest, then reaches behind
for a bag of breadcrumbs,
which he sets there where a lap
used to be, in that abyss.
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What’s up
The Manual series, when complete, will tell you everything you need to know that you didn't learn in kindergarten. Belgian video-artist and soundcreator Swoon is making videos for some of its sections. Guest-author Luisa A. Igloria has been writing a poem a day since November 2010 in response to Dave's posts at The Morning Porch. Yet another on-going collaboration is the dialogue in poems and photos prompted by late-night conversations between Dave and British blogger Rachel Rawlins, a project we call Conversari. Finally, the Words on the Street cartoon, featuring Dave's urban doppelganger Diogenes, returned at the beginning of 2012 as a weekly feature after a several-year hiatus.Categories
Series
- Bestiary
- Blogging the Appalachians
- Breakdown: The Banjo Poems
- Cibola
- Conversari
- Highgate Cemetery Poems
- Honduran poetry
- Manual
- Morning Porch Poems: Winter 2010-11
- Morning Porch Poems: Spring 2011
- Morning Porch Poems: Summer 2011
- Morning Porch Poems: Autumn 2011
- Morning Porch Poems: Winter 2011-12
- Odes to Tools
- Poetics and technology
- Postcards from a Conquistador
- Public Poems
- Ridge and Valley
- Self Portraits
- The Temptations of Solitude
- Wildflower poems
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Recent Posts
- Manual: How to make videopoems, courtesy of Swoon
- Landscape, with Geese; and Later, Falling Snow
- How to find things
- Lumen
- Words on the Street
- The Jewel in the Fruit
- How to breathe
- Preparing the Balikbayan Box
- How to wait
- Diorama, with Mountain City and Fog
- How to listen
- Legacy
- How to walk
- Maquette
- How to eat
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Recent Comments
- rr said This is the pig’s bollocks. (Aka awesome)
- Dave Bonta said Thanks. I’ve always loved that word (as well...
- Deb said Loving this series; want to steal many lines. Chee...
- Dave Bonta said Thanks! I kind of think my spring wildflower poems...
- Dave Bonta said Hi Albert – I’m glad you’re liki...
- Dick said Good to have both Words on the Street and the Manu...
- Albert B. Casuga said Correction: http://ambitsgambit.blogspot.com/2012/...
Authors
Dave Bonta (3184), Luisa A. Igloria (424), Todd Davis (9), Teju Cole (5), Steven Bonta (3), Chris Bolgiano (3), Marcia Bonta (2), Bruce Bonta (1), Abdul-Walid of Acerbia (1), Sarah Bennett (1), Nathan Moore (1), Kristin Berkey-Abbott (1), Joan Ryan (1), Alexis Aguilar (1), Peter Stephens (1), Alison Kent (1), Dick Jones (1)

When my wife and I are out around running errands or whatever, and we see a recent veteran amputee, it absolutely arrests us. (Unfortunately, this is something that happens more and more.) We wonder and worry how damaged we all will be as a people by this terrible war.
In historical-critical glosses on the gospels, scholars say that Zacchaeus climbed a sycamore because this tree’s limbs are so often ladder-like. That broken man could do something that the one in the poem cannot.
Brett, thanks for refershing my memory about Luke 19:4. I see that the King James Version uses an archaic spelling, “sycomore.” (For anyone else who wants to see what we’re talking about, you can read the passage in context here.)
I can’t help wondering, though, whether in addition to the ease of climbing it, the sycamore wasn’t chosen because of the smooth texture of its bark, visually reminiscent of human skin. One thinks of the blind man who gains his sight in Mark: “He saw men as trees, walking.”
Very powerful word pictures. As one who works with the disabled, I feel that you have captured the emotional as well as the physical losses of this young man.
Ruth – Thank you very much. And bless you for the work you do.
Dave,
I’d like to hear you read this, even through my slow hook-up. Are you going to do that sort of thing?
I’d like to, but first I gotta get some sort of microphone that I can plug into the computer.
That is exciting news. I hope it can work on my end. Wild!
Another fine, powerful poem, Dave. I especially liked the “carp sliding under the flesh-toned bark” and the “abyss” at the end. I see disabled men in wheelchairs feeding the ducks in the park here quite often – but they aren’t wartime amputees.
I’d like to hear you read it too.
Glad you liked it, Beth.
Really? As seldom as I visit cities, I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a thing. I was just trying to imagine what I would do if I were confined to a wheelchair.
Nothing to add except I sure liked — tongue-tied by it, which is a good thing.
(Oh, just noticed the excerpt from my Crime in smorgasblog — thanks, Dave.)
This is what I call a “necessary poem.” I thank you for giving me the opportunity to read it.
He’s in the soup.
Great imagery.
I enjoy poems so much more when read aloud.
Thanks, all.
I will see about getting a microphone.
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