The Best American Poetry

Columbia College 1967 #29 [by Mitch Sisskind]

Carlson Fenwick, Professor

In our years-long correspondence concerning
All things Shakespearian Alan Grosbeck and I
Sometimes amused ourselves by concocting
Hare-brained interpretations and pursuing
Them to their risibly illogical conclusions.
Aware for instance that in Elizabethan times
‘Nothing’ was a crude slang word for the
Female genitalia, we searched past the oft-cited
Double entendre of Much Ado About Nothing
And discovered that "nothing" was possibly
Shakespeare’s favorite word. In King Lear
Nothing appears eighteen times in just
Fourteen speeches including Cordelia’s
First words to Lear – ‘Nothing, my lord’ --
And in Lear as a whole we found "nothing"
Thirty-four times in twenty-nine speeches
While in The Winter’s Tale "nothing" appears
Thirty-four times in twenty-six speeches.
There’s plenty of nothing in Hamlet too.
So what was Shakespeare up to there?
Possibly nothing. But plenty of nothing.
We had some good laughs over it.

I miss Alan, interred now at Mount Auburn,
And he came to mind yesterday as I read
Sonnet 73 and recalled how we used to
Imagine all the possibilities of who is
Speaking to whom in these fourteen lines.
Oh, spare me the dull and obvious banality
That it’s an old man addressing a younger.
It could be an old woman and her cat or
A young girl and her doll. Why the hell not?
But then a rather novel interpretation came
To me which I wholeheartedly welcomed.
Was there really something new to say
About one of the most commented-upon
Poems in the English language? I hurried
To my bookshelves and consulted Dryden,
Johnson, Coleridge, the Marxists, Freudians,
The New Critics, and even old Yeats whose
Remark that Shakespeare is only a mass of
Magnificent fragments expresses not at all a
Denigration but instead suggests an analogy
Between Shakespeare and the post-Newtonian
Description of the whole far-flung Universe.

But it seems that no scholar in any age has
Proposed that the ‘speaker’ in Sonnet 73
Is actually the poem itself, nor that the subject
Of the poem is the experience of reading it.
‘That time of year thou mayst in me behold’ --
A coy invitation: If you’ve got a moment to
Engage your imagination, the poem says,
These ink spots on a page can conjure up
A windy fall day, some trees, and a ruined
Church or monastery, perhaps one of those
Closed by Henry VIII. And that’s only the
Beginning of what I, the poem, can disclose
If – and it’s a big if -- you have what it takes
To see it. My coy invitation was also a challenge.
You may ‘behold’ the images, or maybe not,
But the final couplet will offer a congratulation
On what ‘thou perceiv’st’ – with a reminder that
Perception won’t last forever. “This’ in line 13
Refers to the inevitability of conclusion, which
Has been universalized in the poem and is now
Demonstrated by the end of the poem itself.
Is there more? Yes, or maybe not. Oh dear God.

Ed. note: "There’s plenty of nothing in Hamlet, too." True, and the studious reader will note the allusion to this great song from Gershwin's Porgy and Bess.

No use complainin'. . .

Readers, vote for the best version. -- DL

Pelosi Quotes Longfellow [by Mitch Sisskind]

Yesterday, introducing the impeachment managers,
Nancy Pelosi invoked Longfellow. It was the 
first time I've heard poetry spoken by a politician 
since Bill Clinton in the 1980's quoted Emerson's
baleful line about the future, "When our sons have
gone to where our fathers are...."

Speaking of baleful, here's a Longfellow poem 
perhaps appropriate for these dark times:

Haunted Houses (1858)

All houses wherein men have lived and died
Are haunted houses. Through the open doors
The harmless phantoms on their errands glide,
With feet that make no sound upon the floors.

We meet them at the doorway, on the stair,
Along the passages they come and go,
Impalpable impressions on the air,
A sense of something moving to and fro.

There are more guests at table, than the hosts
Invited; the illuminated hall
Is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts,
As silent as the pictures on the wall.

The stranger at my fireside cannot see
The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear;
He but perceives what is; while unto me
All that has been is visible and clear.

We have no title-deeds to house or lands;
Owners and occupants of earlier dates
From graves forgotten stretch their dusty hands,
And hold in mortmain still their old estates.

The spirit-world around this world of sense
Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere
Wafts through these earthly mists and vapors dense
A vital breath of more ethereal air.

Our little lives are kept in equipoise
By opposite attractions and desires;
The struggle of the instinct that enjoys,
And the more noble instinct that aspires.

These perturbations, this perpetual jar
Of earthly wants and aspirations high,
Come from the influence of an unseen star,
An undiscovered planet in our sky.

And as the moon from some dark gate of cloud
Throws o’er the sea a floating bridge of light,
Across whose trembling planks our fancies crowd
Into the realm of mystery and night,–

So from the world of spirits there descends
A bridge of light, connecting it with this,
O’er whose unsteady floor, that sways and bends,
Wander our thoughts above the dark abyss.

 

Calliope [by Mitch Sisskind]

When she used the word bullnose to describe
The blunt corner of a marble kitchen counter --
From that moment I was in love with Calliope,
As I inferred a knowledge of carpentry which,
Although I had been unaware of it, I do find
Attractive in a woman whose slender arms
Disguise wiry strength just as her vocabulary
Unexpectedly includes a word like bullnose.
Another turn-on for me is a sylph-like woman
In a form-fitting wedding dress so with pleasure
I anticipate browsing Modern Brides magazine
With Calliope – notwithstanding how when I
Looked up bullnose in the dictionary it was
Defined as a disease of pigs. But no matter!

Voices of Columbia 1967, #1 (by Mitch Sisskind)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jared Korsauer, Student

Every Sunday night a group of us
Get together – a leftist lawyer,
CU Students, a tough black guy
Who got radicalized in the air force,
Some chicks, a psychiatrist who
Knows psychiatry is all bullshit --
Each with revolutionary intentions
And with a revolutionary analysis
Which doesn’t mean they’ve read
Every word that Marx ever wrote
Or all of Stalin’s letters to Molotov
But they understand the dialectic
And they’re action-oriented Leninist
Bolsheviks in the context of 1967.

*
Carlson Fenwick, Professor

Were we really to hear and
Understand Lear’s words,
‘If you have poison for me
“I will drink it,’ or Francesca
Of Canto V, ‘Quel giorno più
‘Non vi leggemmo avante,’
‘That day we read no farther,’
Or von Sternberg’s Blue Angel
In which Jannings dies a tragic
Cuckold and off the screen died
An unrepentant Nazi in 1950 --
Were we to take all that to heart,
Alas, in that case, I’m afraid
We would just cry all the time.

*
James Rice, Student

Pears are pear-shaped Jewish kids
From Brooklyn most of whom
Want to be doctors but they also
Like Government which is called
Political Science at a lot of schools.
Pears hang out in the pear palace
Which is the 24-hour study room
Near the vending machines in
Hartley Hall which are across the
Way from the TV room where
Pears are almost never found.
Jocks who come here from Ohio
Or Texas have never seen a pear
And it hugely freaks them out.

 

Poem for Mitch Sisskind [by David Lehman]

On Veterans' Day let us remember the fallen, and honor them.
It used to be Armistice Day.
Now it is a three-day weekend.
As King David would have said: How the mighty have fallen.
But some things don't change even as all the fashions do
so the old feel older in an orgy of planned obsolescence.
I wondered: Who will inspire them to do the great things
the Alte Kockers of the past revealed in prophecies?

So I went to Mitch, my old friend, thinking: if anyone knows,
he does, and he told me a very simple solution he had
for the problem of inspiration, which Freud would have called
the problem of anxiety. "When you need inspiration,"
Mitch said, "there's no need to look any further than
Orson Welles' classic commercials for Paul Masson wine.
Many of them can be seen on You-Tube. I saw a nice one
the other day. I just wish it went on longer."

Kaia and Krista (by Mitch Sisskind)

I sold a Miro painting for a rich guy

That was basically a big number 68

And oddly enough it sold for about

68,000 so I got a nice finder’s fee

But it would sell for even more now.

 

My friend Dennis had this hot

New babe Kaia who wanted the

Finer things in life so he asked

Me did I know anybody that was

Selling a Picasso or whatnot.

 

Dennis was the kind of guy that

When we were at the race track

And he went to pee he came back

With ice cream cones for everybody

And he did a lot of stuff like that.

 

Many people carry guns but Dennis

Was the only guy I’ve known who

Carried a gun with a silencer but

I never saw him actually take it out

Nor did I see him lose his temper.

 

We went every week to a bar by

Grand Avenue to settle up our

Sports bets and once we came in

And a lowlife mope said to Dennis

You bastard you owe me money.

 

It was kind of a tense moment except

Dennis handled it with great aplomb

By asking the mope in a calm voice

How much do I owe you and the mope

Said 200 so Dennis just gave it to him.

 

When we were outside the bar a guy

Named Jimmy who was with us asked

Why he gave money to the mope and

Dennis said emphatically that it was

Worth his 200 to be rid of the mope.

 

He said how Joey The Clown Lombardo,

Joey Aiuppa, John No Nose DiFronzo,

Those guys owed him favors and with

One phone call the mope would be in

A trunk at O’Hare long-term parking.

 

But he stated that he was not a thug

So 200 to get rid of the mope was

A small price which I attributed to

The influence of Kaia who certainly

Would disapprove of any violence.

 

Meanwhile I happened to know a guy

Who wanted to sell a Matisse drawing

So Dennis and I went over to look at it,

A big drawing of a woman in charcoal

Or something hanging there on the wall.

 

The guy had an impressive art collection

But for some reason he wished to get rid

Of the Matisse which actually looked like

Something that could have been drawn

By a six-year old. He wanted 35,000.

 

Dennis handled it with great aplomb

Except I knew he was thinking how

A six-year old could have drawn it or

He could even draw one himself and

Who would be the wiser? But no.

 

Down in the car we giggled about it.

35,000 just to fuck Kaia he laughed

As much later I would laugh at myself

When I didn’t know or care how much

Krista took me for and she broke me.

 

Sonnet, 11/5/2019 (by Mitch Sisskind)

In the old days working at Republic Steel
We gathered nightly at Moose Cholak’s
Calumet Inn on 99^th Street and Ewing.
It was when polyester double-knit pants
Were coming in and one night this guy
Said to me, 'No reason to worry about
'Pants anymore what with the way these
'Double-knit disco pants are coming in,'
And I said, 'I agree with you completely,'
And he went on, 'Pants are suddenly a
'Non-issue because of the double-knits,'
And I said, 'You are correct,' and as he
Wonderingly shook his head I insisted,
'Beyond any doubt, what you say is true.'

Preface to Lyrical Ballads [by Mitch Sisskind]

Consider the lilies of the field, they toil
not, neither do they spin, yet I say unto
you that even Solomon in his glory was
not arrayed as one of these. -- Matthew 6:28-29

I think Jesus Christ meant that
If you look closely at something
Like a lily you would see how
It would cost a lot of money for
A nice suit like that for a man
Or a nice dress for a woman.

But, and this is a big but: Jesus
Might have been joking or being
Sarcastic like if two rich men are
Hanging out at the country club
And one of them says sarcastically
How money is only pieces of paper.

Since nobody knows what Jesus
Meant it can be one thing at one
Minute and the opposite thing
The next minute, or both at once,
As John Ashbery said, ‘It had been
‘Raining but it had not been raining.’

So when Buddha heard what Jesus
Said about the lily he said, ‘He is not far
From Buddha-hood’ and when he read
Some Trees by John Ashbery he said,
‘The most beautiful first book of poems
‘Since Wallace Stevens’ Harmonium.’

10/22/2019 (by Mitch Sisskind)

It’s my birthday, I’m 147, I’m 741,
I wake in darkness lying on my side
And as I feel a very slight stirring
Against my back I wonder might
This be from the Cthulhu Mythos:
Yig, or Olkoth, who enters the world
Through glass eyes in the statues
Of the Virgin Mary. Oh, you callow
Undergraduates, I’m being serious
Here and the windows tightly shut
Though they may be hardly mitigate
The I-10 freeway’s 4:30 AM roar
From half a mile away. Are you 17,
Honey? Are you 24? Moi, I am 812.

 

In Bojaxi Gezalem (by Mitch Sisskind)

I traveled to Bojaxi Gezalem. I visited the marketplace. I said,
“Nuk mos a mund majtas,” which means, “I have been tooting
my horn.” I had meant to say, “Ndaloni a mund falamenderit,”
which means, “Fruit is what I am eager to buy.” They laughed
at me.

In the hospital I said, “Desha pulla palko te plote,” which means,
“This is the weight.” I had meant to say, “Mund ma trgoni pk
vizat,” which means, “There is no need for you to make such a
fuss about it.” They laughed at me.

I was in the airport. I said, “Eshte per quind shkone,” which means,
“I am looking for a loophole.” I had meant to say, “Eshte me
didjde det bakine,” which means, “This is the window where one
buys the funnies.” They laughed at me.

I went to the brothel and said, “Mund a mund verit kanitier,” which
means, “I need the tow truck.” I had meant to say, “Kifit mos
vazo takoni,” which means, “From now on I will try to be
spontaneous.” They laughed at me.

I prayed and said, “Ora kur mur shesh bardha,” which means,
“My sin is always before my eyes.” I had meant to say, “Ju
duhet keni prisni lema thoma,” which means, “Lead me in the
correct path.” No matter, God heard my prayer!

 

Voices of Mississippi, 1957 (by Mitch Sisskind)

Lyle Ross Crockett
University Administrator

“Chancellor of the University of Mississippi.”
That those five words – or are there six? --
Would ever append themselves to my name,
(Or is my name the modest appendage
To those words?) – well sir, for a fellow
Who grew up around hogs and cotton fields
It is quite a bit to take in. I am not worthy.

Worthy or not, however, I have a job to do
Nor will I let my deeply-felt humility imply
Any lack of confidence in my preparedness
For the Chancellorship, lest that implication
Appear to devalue the respect and gratitude
I feel for my years at other great universities
As an administrator and in classrooms as well.

Like its sister schools across the South,
The academic mission of Ole Miss exists
Side by side with the school’s military,
Athletic, and social responsibilities in ways
That a Harvard or Yale couldn't understand.
We’re an army, a professional football team,
And a matchmaking service all at once.

To be clear, when I call us an army
I use that word in the broadest sense,
Encompassing our infantry ROTC and
Also our Navy and Air Force ROTC corps;
“Army,” after all, derives from the Latin
“Armata” as in armada, the maritime force
That struck England in 1588, I think it was.

As for football, just as the Tampa Tarpons
Are fertile soil for seedlings of major league
Baseball, our football team is professional
Notwithstanding that our players are paid
Later rather than paid now. Scant matter.
Charley Conerly ’47 is the quarterback
In New York, and look ye at Bruiser Kinard.

Apropos Ole Miss as a matchmaking service --
But is marriage bureau gentler to the ear? --
When sons and daughters of the state’s
Eminent families enroll here there is an
Expectation that they’ll graduate with
More than a sheepskin: a life’s partnership,
That is, to prolong their patrician lineage.

In my capacity as University chancellor,
With that legal and even spiritual identity,
I’ve been honored to join a number of
These young couples in holy matrimony.
Violet Beach became Mrs. Wilson Greenhill
Under my auspices, and Floride Bondurrant
Metamorphosed into Mrs. Reed Polifax.

Yes, Hayes Bondurrant is a Ku Kluxer,
And Old Man Greenhill is a horse’s ass.
But might not the progeny of their progeny
Sustain what has worth in antique traditions
While also gestating a new generation of
Hey, whoop, jamboree, as is our fond hope?
I’ve done my part. You may kiss the bride.

The Curse that Cannot Speak Its Name (by Mitch Sisskind)

A New York Times article full of negative insinuations linked
Democrat candidate Tulsi Gabbard to white supremacist
groups and Russian cyberbots. Throughout the article there’s
puzzlement and a certain annoyance about Tulsi Gabbard:
“What is she up to?”

Whatever she may be up to, what’s most obvious about Tulsi
Gabbard is never mentioned in the article. Yet it’s absolutely
the first thing anyone notices about her. Tulsi Gabbard is a
beautiful woman.

If she were Black, if she were Muslim, even, perhaps, if she
were fat, the New York Times might reference those attributes.
What’s more, such references could confer on Tulsi Gabbard
some of today’s requisite victim identity. The present article
might at least have mentioned the fact that Tulsi Gabbard is
Hindu. But the general animosity of the piece was such that
no quarter would be given. I believe that the foundation of that
animosity was the candidate’s physical attractiveness. Again,
her beauty is the obvious thing about her, and for that very
reason it can't even be mentioned. It's too horrible.

I first noticed this tendency in the media following the death,
in 1982, of the actress Grace Kelly. One of the TV networks
aired a half-hour program featuring celebrities who had known
her. Not one of them mentioned the fact that she was a beautiful
woman. The irony was, if she hadn’t been a beautiful woman
nobody would ever have heard of Grace Kelly.

In the ancient world, in Northern Europe and also in South America,
beautiful young girls were subjected to sacrifice. Whatever honor
might have been ascribed to this, it was a good way of getting rid
of a potentially disruptive character, and even of punishing her for
being what she was. When the remains of a sacrificed girl were
discovered in Peru, that dog Bill Clinton uncouthly stated, “There’s
one good-looking mummy.” Impeach him!

In a 1980s shampoo commercial, a model begged, “Don’t hate me
because I’m beautiful.” It was a joke but she deserved to be hated.
If she were any good, she’d be fat.

https://www.nytimes.com/2019/10/12/us/politics/tulsi-gabbard.html?searchResultPosition=2

That's What I Thought (by Mitch Sisskind)

Everybody has a tragic story
And I have one of those too. 
Would you like to hear it 
For a couple of hours on an 
Economy class flight to LA?
Haha that’s what I thought!

Or let’s talk about money.
Just by looking at people
It’s hard to tell how much
Money they have. Do you 
Think I have a lot of money? 
Haha that’s what I thought!

Or let’s talk about sex.
Just by looking at people
It’s hard to tell how much 
Sex they’re getting. Do you 
Think I’m getting a lot of sex?
Haha that’s what I thought!

Or let’s talk about death.
Just looking at people
It’s hard to tell whether
They’re dead or alive but
If you wait long enough 
You’ll be right eventually

The way a stopped clock
Is right twice a day or blind
Pigs find truffles. Do you
Think I’m alive or am I dead?
Haha that’s what I thought!
But haha what about now?

 

 

 

 

From "Voices of Mississippi 1957" (by Mitch Sisskind)

Reed Polifax
University Student

In Mississippi the Polifax name commands
Respect so I need to be careful about whom
I marry and that is the reason I pledged
Phi Delta Theta -- not that there was
Ever any doubt I would pledge Phi Delt
Since my daddy and his daddy before him
Were also brothers of Phi Delta Theta.

You get your pick of desirable women in
The most prestigious sororities when you
Are a brother in Phi Delta Theta particularly
If your name is Polifax, just as the women
In those sororities know they get their pick
Of the most desirable men if they are sisters
Of sororities like Tri Delt or Delta Gamma.

On a typical football weekend before the game
We will be drinking in the Grove with the girls
There naturally gravitating to the Phi Delts
And before the Vandy game there were lots of
Delta Gammas there and I was being sociable
But not revealing that my last name is Polifax
Or of course they would instantly smell blood.

However there was something about this one
Delta Gamma who without batting her eyelashes
Was unusually bewitching notwithstanding and
As we began the usual barnyard mating dance
I let it drop: “My name by the way is Reed Polifax”
To which she replied, “Well, bless your heart,
“Dear, my name is Floride Calhoun Bondurrant!”

Washington Janes
Groundskeeper

At Parchman the assistant warden
Took me under his wing and I learned
To drive the tractors and fix them if
Something went wrong with them.

It was the best thing that ever happened
To me because one day the boss man
From Greenhill’s farm came and asked
Could anybody at Parchman drive a tractor.

I was under a life sentence you know
But the assistant warden pointed at me
And said I can drive so they let me go
But money must have changed hands.

I got along fine with the boss man at
Greenhill’s farm except they paid me
Just one dollar a day with some food
And I lived in a converted chicken coop.

One day the boss man said to me,
“Is this a good tractor we got here?”
I said, “Yes, the Deere Model 60 is
“A good tractor, nothing wrong with it.”

He said, “You seem to know a lot“
About tractors. Mister Greenhill
Would like to speak with you.
“He’ll come by your coop about six.”

That evening Mister Greenhill said,
“I’m closely associated with Ole Miss.
“They’re putting in a whole new turf
“For the Ole Miss football stadium.

“They’ve got a P9600 lateral-move
“Sprinkler rig on wheels so they need
“Somebody to drive a tractor to pull
“The rig to wet down the football field.

“Recently I donated one of the new
“Deere thirty-five horsepower tractors
“That came out this year. You’ll need
“To familiarize yourself with it, Wash.”

I wasn’t sure quite what he meant
But then he said, “In other words,
“I want to get you a groundskeeping
“Job at Ole Miss. That ok with you?”

“Well, yes, it definitely is,” I said,
And we grinned at one another
“Thank you, thank you. The tractor
“Will be in very good hands.”

“I know it will be. Oh, one other thing.
“Are you married, Wash?” So I said,
“I got a wife but I’m not sure where
“She’s at since I went to Parchman.”

“Well, while you are at the university
“Best to keep your eyes on the tractor,
“You know what I mean?” Still grinning
When he said it and I kept grinning too.

Floride Calhoun Bondurrant
University Student

Even if I am now a mere college student
I am aware, grateful, and very proud that
My mother and father bestowed upon me
The name Floride Calhoun in the hope
And expectation that I will acquit myself
Worthily of my namesake Floride Calhoun,
Daughter of Senator John E. Calhoun and
Later the wife of Senator John C. Calhoun,
The Secretary of State, the Secretary of War,
And the Vice-President of the United States.

Floride and her husband had ten children
In eighteen years so obviously she and 
John C. Calhoun were busy as husband
And wife but none of the children lived
Long except their daughter Anna Maria
Who by and by married Thomas Clemson
Who inherited the Calhoun family’s plantation
Upon the death of Anna Maria and when
Thomas himself eventually passed away
He willed it to become Clemson University.

Sometimes people think I am putting on airs
When I tell about my name but I am always
Honest about not being a blood descendant of
The original Floride Calhoun and what of it?
My parents wanted to give me something to
Live up to and the more I learn about Floride
The more I want to be like her -- not by having
Ten children but by never complaining as she
Never complained while managing a plantation
When her husband was gone a lot of the time.

Floride Calhoun got herself and John C. Calhoun
Kicked out of Washington because Floride didn’t
Approve of how a woman married a rich Senator
Too soon after her husband died and for how
She messed around with the rich Senator even
While her husband was alive. Later the woman
Had her picture on a cigar box. The woman
Was known as a fizgig which is a firecracker
That makes a sizzle noise when the fuse is lit
But the word fizgig also used to mean a slut.

I don’t need to marry a hugely prominent man
Like John C. Calhoun but I do want a man
That is classy and successful like my father
Who is a businessman in Senatobia and is
Kind of like the big fish in a small pond.
My sister also goes to Ole Miss and we
Compare notes about guys we meet and
What guys are like from different fraternities.
Her name is Varina, the name of the wife of
Jefferson Davis the President of the CSA.

 

 

Poem #2 from University of Mississippi, 1957 (by Mitch Sisskind)

Grey Squirrel
Student

To cozy up to the Beatnik Girl I joined
The Folk Music Club. The meeting
Consisted of singing to each other
From mimeographed pages while 
A few of them played their guitars.

No other males were present as 
The Beatnik Girl and the other girls
Looked at me with pleasant enough
Expressions on their faces as they 
Might look at a harmless bear cub.

Unlike the hairsprayed sorority girls
These no makeup girls seemed to 
Flaunt their back country origins and
While they did not wear Davy Crockett 
Coonskin hats they might as well have.

After a few songs I was asked to 
Introduce myself to the group and 
Maybe say a few words about myself
Like where in Mississippi I was from
And about my interest in folk music.

Often I am rather squeamish about 
Saying that I come from Hog Chain
So I say Bogue Chitto instead but
Among the odd duck girls I admitted, 
“I’m from Hog Chain in Lincoln county.”

I continued, “It may surprise you to
“Learn that a hog chain has nothing
“To do with pigs but is actually a
“Metal rod that supports the hulls of
“Flat-bottom stern-wheeler riverboats.

“I am the first ever from Hog Chain to
“Attend Ole Miss just as I am the first
“One to be a brother in Kappa Alpha 
“Where our motto is ‘Dieu et les Dames’ 
“Meaning ‘God and the Ladies’ in English.

“As for my interest in folk music perhaps 
“I don’t know how I can put it into words
“But I have smelled so much hairspray
“And deoderant on sorority girls that I 
“Need a break from that really bad.”

Had I said too much or not enough?
A moment of stunned silence ensued
Until one of them finally whispered
Quietly almost like a little mouse,
“Could you please tell us your name?”

Just then in that very second before 
I could reply the Beatnik Girl stated 
Loudly and firmly, “His former name 
“Means nothing because I am giving 
“Him a new one which is Grey Squirrel!”

 

Poem from U of Mississippi, 1957 (by Mitch Sisskind)

Ray Lloyd Burford
Student

As the word got out how Wobble Alfork
Had said that the Beatnik Girl was hot,
Which he said on the football team’s bus,
It caused a controversy because Wobble
Was the main Ole Miss girl rating expert.

Half of us thought Wobble was plain nuts
While the other half scratched their heads
And wondered was there something they
Were not seeing that Wobble was seeing
In Kate Haley known as the Beatnik Girl.

It all came to a head at a meeting of the 
Ole Miss M Club where without saying
The Beatnik Girl by name Wobble said,
“I will tell you something and you can 
“Listen or not listen, it’s all up to you.

“Right now we have the Tri Delts and
“So forth with the permanent waves
“In their hair and wanting to be like
“Miss America but change is coming
“And am I the only one who sees that?

“Soon the hot girls at all the colleges
“All over the country and even Ole Miss
“Are going to have long straight hair
“And they will play the guitar and sing
“Hang down your head Tom Dooley.

“And those girls will be hot to trot
“And the ones putting on their makeup
“With permanent waves in their hair
“Will wonder what happened because
“They will never know what hit them.

“By the way, my fellow members of the
“M Club, I’ll tell you what else is going 
“To happen, there is going to be Negro
“Football players and basketball players
“At Ole Miss and we can play tiddlywinks.”

Then he stopped talking but it seemed 
Impossible what he said, and I tried to 
Imagine the hot beatnik girls and Negro 
Ole Miss football players but it was like 
An ant trying to imagine the Sputnik.

 

 

 

 

 

"Mandingo" (by Mitch Sisskind)

I'm doing a project of 100 monologues by imaginary
students, faculty, administrators, donors, and staff
at the University of Mississippi in 1957. After this
I will do a similar project set at Columbia University
in 1967, and then a final one at a college to be 
determined set in 1977.

This is from the Mississippi project >>

Frank Daniel Glass
Student

At the SAE house we watch a lot of
Television but there are also books 
That we pass around and laugh about 
Except sometimes we also discuss 
Them seriously and even angrily.

One of the books is “Peyton Place”
About the goings on in a small town 
Some of which are of a sexual nature
But “Peyton Place” is also surprisingly 
Philosophical in some long passages.

For example, “Peyton Place” begins
“Indian summer is like a woman. 
“Ripe, hotly passionate, but fickle.”
And there is also sex and abortion
With the character of Betty Anderson.

On the other hand, “Peyton Place”
Has passages like, “Why pray at all?
“God will do what he wants anyway.”
We have had discussions about this 
Besides about Betty taking off her bra.

The other book we pass around is 
Called “Mandingo” by Kyle Onstott.
This is an amazing book about which 
People would get really angry because
Of the way it depicts the Old South.

However, I did not get angry about it
And just to get the brothers’ goats 
I said “Mandingo” was the opposite of 
How “Gone With The Wind” prettified 
The South so “Mandingo” uglified it.

In “Mandingo” all the white people are
Racists to which some of the brothers
Objected but I asked how can a person 
Own Negro slaves without being racist?
The idea of that is even quite laughable.

There were times when we almost came 
To blows about “Mandingo” but I said 
Honesty is the best policy in a book. 
I even wrote an English paper about 
“Mandingo” for which I received an F.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gedankenexperimenten (by Mitch Sisskind)

 

As I am riding a lightning bolt

You are on an embankment

In a box for which I have a key.

O ich wünschte ich hätte mehr

Gelegenheit dich zu küssen!

 

I am sitting on a hot stove

On an embankment while

You are not playing dice.

O was für eine authentisches

Verführerische Weib bist du!

 

If a fish is told to climb a tree

On an embankment it will

Believe that its life is useless.

O ich möchte dich betteln hören!

Später kommt die Knutschflecken!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two Poems (by Mitch Sisskind)

'Hello, I'm an Intellectual'

No woman will or could resist
This disarming introduction
Which, in contradistinction to 
Banal so-called pickup lines, 
Offers a frisson of brain buzz
As a kind of appetizer for the
Polymorphous feast of prandial 
And potable invigorations to follow.
‘Hello, I’m an intellectual!’ Say it
With a cosmopolitan intonation 
(Practice with a recording device) 
And watch what happens. Read
“Think and Grow Rich” to similarly
Jump start your whole financial life

Revelation

At a Cubs game – no score 
After six innings – I prayed 
For a home run on the next 
Pitch and it happened. As the 
Ball cleared the left field wall
I briefly hesitated, then fell
To my knees and as I recited
The Sh’ma the heavens opened
And a great hippopotamus
Appeared whose visage shone
With compassion and love for
All humankind. Then it was gone.
I resumed my seat. I was eleven 
Years old. My friends shot me
Puzzled glances for a moment 
But with shrugs they concluded
I’d simply had a whack attack.
The game continued, 1-0 Cubs.
I have kept silent all these years!
Sh'ma Yisrael, Adonai Eloheinu,
Adonai Echud! Amen! Amen!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Neem Fix (by Mitch Sisskind)

Neem Fix had a nice bitch,
Joe Blow had him a male dog,
They decided to breed the dogs
Where Neem got pick of the litter
And Joe Blow got the next two
Of the pups, then on and on
Alternating the pups and if there
Was an odd number of the pups
The last of the pups would belong
To that fine gentleman Neem Fix.

His bitch whelped six pups so
Neem wound up with three pups,
One female and two males which
He named after gun manufacturers,
The female he named Winchester
While the males he named Hi-Point
And Ruger. Often when people
Bought a pup they renamed the pup
Something else but generally it was
Too young to know the difference.