june '74

Why is the owl & pussycat's boat pea-green? Is it made of bamboo? Has moss grown on it?

What is a bong tree? Is it in the south pacific? Is it gong-like, or hollow like a hookah? 

Why honey? With what? 

If there’s plenty of money, why offer the piggy-wig just a shilling for the ring? There seems little else to spend it on.

Why did they sail for a year and a day, or 366 days? Is it because even numbers are more harmonious?

With the delightful picture of marriage portrayed in the owl and pussycat, why did Edward Lear never marry? Is it because he entertained a number of pet peeves, including noise, gaiety, and hens? "When I go to heaven, if indeed I go -and am surrounded by thousands of polite angels- I shall say courteously, 'please leave me alone.'"

and there in a wood

I've had some time off, which means walking the dog. On one of my many journeys through the park, I was naming the trees (Octopussy, General Grant, Burgermeister Meisterburger, Frau-Frau, Funeral, Scarface...), and it occured to me that the famous Bong Tree of The Owl and the Pussycat fame must be the Baobab.

"They sailed away
for a year and a day
to the land where the Bong tree grows.
And there is a wood...."

Don't ask me why I had this revelation on a frosty grey German day. There wasn't a Baobab in sight. But recently I’ve been leafing through a book called Remarkable Trees of the World, which features a number of fabulous Baobabs. It's also called “the bottle tree” (and you need a bottle to make a bong, right?). It's also called “the monkey bread tree,” “the cream of tartar tree,” “the chemist tree,” “the sour gourd” and “the lemonade tree.” And get this - there's a place in Tanzania called Bong'wa where this tree grows. Tanzania is a coastal country, thus reachable by peagreen boat. I know I've sometimes taken the Owl & Pussycat thing too far, but I'm sure Edward Lear couldn't resist slipping Baobabs into his poem, disguised as water pipes.

This photo shows Baobab alley in Madagascar, which, as you probably know from playing Risk, is an island off the eastern coast of Africa that split from the continent 160 million years ago. Since then you've had to sail there, although of course these days you could also fly.

There are different species, but mostly Baobabs are famous for just being weird and difficult to climb. You can see more here & here. And here are a bajillion more.

come walk a mile in my plus size pants

Popular routes to here:

Beautiful Nude Lesbians
The Bong Tree
Couples in Matching Clothes
Tweed Day
Gymnophobia

The Owl & the Pussycat in Jive

De owl and da damn pussycat went t'see in some fine peagreen boat. Man! Dey took some honey and plenty uh bre'd wrapped down in some five-pound note. De owl looked down t'de stars above and sang t'a small guitar, "oh lovely pussy, oh pussy mah' love, whut some fine pussy ya' are, ya' are, ya' are! Right on! Whut some fine pussy ya' are." Pussy said t'de owl, "ya' elegant fowl, how charmin'ly sweet ya' rap. Oh let us be married, too long we gots tarried. But whut shall we do fo' some rin'?" Dey sailed away fo' some year and some day t'de land where da damn bong tree grows, and dere in some wood, some piggywig stood wid some rin' at da damn end uh his nose, his nose, his nose, wid some rin' at da damn end uh his nose.

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You can translate your poems into dialect - jive, redneck, pig latin, swedish chef, etc. - here.

to the land of the bong tree

We leave for Denmark tomorrow, and as I was reading The Owl and the Pussycat today, Lear's verse on interracial romance, I thought I'd share my idea about it. In stagings and recordings of the poem, the owl is typically played by a male, the cat by a female. But it seems to me the cat is the male and the owl the female. (Did you already think this, too?) Except for the piggy-wig, Lear avoids gender pronouns, so I can’t prove this. And if I mention that the owl is a symbol for the goddess Athena it probably won’t convince you either. But look at Lear’s illustration.

1. The owl leans back and sings to a small guitar. In English society, it was the female who was musically trained to entertain suitors. And the pussycat is steering the beautiful pea-green boat, a task usually left to a man. (note that the cat’s tail is standing straight up.)
2. Following the owl’s song, the pussycat makes the marriage proposal, also typically the territory of the male.
3. In the second illustration, where the owl and pussycat meet the piggy-wig, the cat looks downright burly, lurking above the bowed owl who passes the shilling along to the pig. It is, after all, Lear's illustration, not someone else's imagining.

(Of course Lear began a poem concering the children of this pair, which poses the cat as the mother, so perhaps I am all shot to hell. But taken on its own, I can't help but imagine the cat as a slinky tom. And the sequel was nowhere near as good as the ambiguous original.)

And I have many other questions and ideas about this lovely verse, which like most parents I have recited many many a bedtime. For example, what is a bong tree? Does it resemble a hookah, or sound like a gong? Why do they only bring honey? Are they fleeing persecution? If there’s plenty of money, why pay just a shilling for the ring? And do they eat the quince with a runcible spoon, as in by means of, or do they eat the spoon along with the quince?

For the Willing if Unenthusiastic

You probably know someone who generally likes poetry, but doesn’t read it much. That’s already pretty good since so many dislike it, are afraid of it or feel alienated by it, or think it’s either all flowers or funerals. It’s true that sitting down to read poetry is an investment of time and concentration and unless the reader walks away satisfied, next time he may just turn on the tv instead.

But there are some poets who appeal in different ways to lukewarm readers. Here are the ones I can come up with. Any other suggestions? (Why can’t I come up with any women here? One might consider Mary Oliver, who's quite accessible, but whether you like her or not you have to admit she is “poetic” in a way that may turn some readers off. Forget Dickinson, forget Plath, forget Olena Davis and Jorie Graham, forget Brock-Broido. . . Ok, I thought of one: Jane Kenyon.)

Edward Lear: Most people read limericks and "The Owl and the Pussycat" and hopefully "The Akond of Swat" as children. I once had friends pass this book around and read limericks at a little birthday gathering (for me) in my office. They enjoyed it. Sincerely.

There was an old Person of Chester,
Whom several small children did pester;
They threw some large stones, which broke most of his bones,
And displeased that old person of Chester.

Charles Bukowski: Funny, raunchy, real life. At least somebody’s real life. Bukowski looks with humor and honesty at ordinary situations. I would advise against reading too much in one sitting, but it’s refreshing in doses. Here's one.

Charles Simic: Surreal and funny, and not unsophisticated. Weird images, personification of the inanimate (“here come my night thoughts on crutches”), and unexpected dialogue. For the unenthusiastic, I’d stay away from his book of prose poems The World Doesn't End, though it’s excellent, and go with any other collection. Here’s the beginning of “Late Call:”

A message for you,
Mouse turd:

You double-crossed us.
You were supposed to get yourself
Crucified
For the sake of Truth…

Who, me?

Russell Edson: You’d think if someone were insecure with poetry they would be turned off by prose poems. Well, don’t call them ”prose poems.” Just say, I got you this book of weird bedtime stories. I keep “A Chair” framed in a collage near my desk, but if you want an example of an Edson poem with a little more action, try “Fire is not a Nice Guest,” which begins -
“I had charge of an insane asylum, as I was insane. A fire came, which got hungry; so I said you may eat a log, but do not go upstaris and eat a dementia praecox. I said, insane people, go into the atic while a fire eats a kitchen chair for breakfast. But fire wanted a kitchen curtain. . .”

Ted Kooser: Accessible, unpretentious language with a positive vibe and democratic appeal. Here are some poems.

Haiku: Haiku are not “hard to get” and are so short they wouldn’t scare anyone away. You don’t get a few lines into them and start wondering what the hell it’s all about or rolling your eyes at the $100 words. I recommend The Essential Haiku: Versions of Basho, Buson & Issa. Here’s a Basho:

it’s not like anything
they compare it to –
the summer moon.