Ryan Eckes: Pick of the Week [ed. Terence Winch]

 

 

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form

 

filing for unemployment again at the end of teacher appreciation week

along w/ 50 million other people

i almost put an air conditioner in the window backwards, on-switch facing outside

i almost cooled off the whole city

what are you doing, my friend said gently, flying down delaware ave, into the night

i appreciate you, i said, waving goodbye, on my way

back to the form:

were you absent from work when work was available:

no, never

i would never try to love my friends

every single day, skipping stones across the water

for pleasure, one dream after another

why would i ever want life to just get better

and better and better

did you or will you receive vacation pay

the car is parked, the door is locked

the room is empty, the fridge is closed

the day is long, the pain is old

when will you learn

said the carcass of an ATM

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Ryan Eckes is a poet from Philadelphia. He is the author of Wrong Heaven Again, General Motors, Valu-Plus, and Old News. Recent poems have appeared in Prolit, Wax Nine Journal, and Windfall Room. Eckes has worked as an adjunct professor at numerous institutions and as a labor organizer in education.

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                                                       Depression Bread Line by George Segal, 1991, bronze, 108 x 148 x 36

Comments

[Nin Andrews]

Such a powerful and frighteningly timely poem.

[Matthew Rohrer]

Love this love the way it moves

[Grace Cavalieri]

Would love to read ALL his work!!!!

[Anne Harding Woodworth]

From the irony of that first line to the speaking ATM carcass, this poem speaks for many and sundry. Thanks.

[Thomas O'Grady]

Thoreau's "quiet desperation" hovers over the world of this poem, with the irony of the opening line and the chill of the closing line framing the gutting bureaucratic indifference to lives lived with best intentions . . . in this case (assuming the poem has some autobiographical resonance), the often thankless life of an adjunct instructor. Very affecting . . .

[Sr. Leslie]

Whoa!…This hits us right where we are…and he does so swiftly ….one image flowing into another… and you don’t know what’s hit you until the last two lines: “when will you learn/said the carcass of an ATM” …all so Now…God help us…great poem Ryan! Thanks and thanks Terence…once again you have given us a gem for the week ahead…

[Clarinda]

Every responder has already said what I feel. Many thx to all,but of course most all the the poet and Terence!

[Jack Ridl]

That’s it!!! Every day I feel millions surrounding me making my teacher retired heart ache.because I made it through.
Thank you for this fiercely brave poem.

[Dr. Earle Hitchner]

As one native Philadelphian to another native Philadelphian, I offer highest praise to Ryan Eckes for his City of Smotherly Love-rooted poem “form.” The inherent contradiction in the opening line—joblessness and dole following “teacher appreciation week”—is rendered virtually commonplace in the second line: “along w/50 million other people.” The reader has a firm grasp of this recurrent situation, as does a friend “flying down delaware ave, into the night.” Any Philadelphia teenager or young adult with a driver’s license knows about the car racing in the evening on Delaware Avenue, which drew some stiff, city-wide competition. No less impressive is Eckes’ deft delineation of the exchange between a mentally sarcastic dole seeker and a jaded unemployment office employee that funnels down into two concluding, conceding lines: “when will you learn / said the carcass of the A.T.M.” Ryan Eckes’ verbal gifts remind me of those possessed by another Philadelphia-born poet, W.S. Di Piero, as well as those of Detroit-born poet Philip Levine. All three know what "real" work is--inside out.

[Terence Winch]

Leslie---thanks for the comment.

[Terence Winch]

Clarinda---thanks for the comment.

[Beth Joselow]

Ah yes, the day is old, the pain is long.

... and the lines (of seekers) will get longer. Good poem for these days. Well done!

[Alan Bernheimer]

The beginning of Ryan Eckes appreciation week...

[Don Berger]

I especially love the fireworks in each line of the second half of this terrific poem--nice pick TP!

[Becky Levenson-Smith]

I love this one, thank you Terence.

[Terence Winch]

You're very welcome, Becky.

[Terence Winch]

Don: Thanks, mon ami.

[Thomas Davis]

These are tough times, and this poem brings that out in a powerful way. Good work.

[David Beaudouin]

This is one of the best "political" poems I've read in a very long time. No one knows the grinding frustration and economic serfdom of adjunct teaching better than those who serve under that failed system. The poet's skillfully nuanced procession of observations draws us into a deeply resonant melancholy and sense of resignation that touched me to the core. "Show, don't tell" (e.g. Dr. Williams) at its best. Thanks, Ryan & Terence!

[Terence Winch]

David: thanks for commenting.

[Cindy Hochman]

Heartfelt, poignant, well-crafted, and a sad commentary on our beloved country. Thank you, Ryan, for this important poem and for baring your soul, and thank you, as always, Terence, for posting such wonderful work.

[Terence Winch]

Thanks for that comment, Cindy.