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Last Call
Last Call
Last Call
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Last Call

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Few poets of Western America fill the “organic intellectual” role better than David Lee. His poetry is the real deal when it comes to recording hilariously insightful—and linguistically accurate—observations of rural culture and America at large while using a host of astute literary allusions and techniques. Imagine Robert Frost simultaneously channeling Will Rogers and Ezra Pound. Imagine Chaucer with a twang. Last Call is bloody brilliant and wickedly witty.
LanguageEnglish
PublisherWings Press
Release dateAug 1, 2014
ISBN9781609403768
Last Call

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  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Last Call, David Lee Wings Press978-1-60940-375-1$16, 134 pgsI have a new Poetrypalooza favorite and a new aspiration in life - for someone to love me this much. Last Call by David Lee is a celebration of, and ode to, his friend the late William Kloefkorn, Poet Laureate of Nebraska. These poems chronicle the lives of a rural West Texas community and the many ways in which the characters of this small town are braided together. Especially one Billy Klogphorne and one Clovis Ledbitter, whom I suspect I ran across many years ago at the now-defunct Cattleman's Restaurant outside Colorado City, Texas. I know these people, I know this place.Watching the recurring characters develop is a joy. There are many monologues that had me truly laughing out loud. For example, this is the title of one of the poems: "Substitute Teacher or The morning Billy Klogphorne taught the adolescent male Sunday School class lesson on the designated Christian Leader Preparation outline topic of Genesis 5:18, 19 and 23, 24, proving Lamech and polygamy were of the lineage of Cain and therefore accursed of God and Why he was never invited back to teach Sunday School again." Yep. Lee has an astonishing gift for colloquial speech that borders on a sort of onomatopoeia, if that makes any sense. I suspect those of you who know his work will understand what I'm trying to say. There is a prodigious and kindly intelligence at work and play here. I cannot recommend this volume highly enough.My favorite:The Traildust Gospel¡Contempla! -Juan Bautista, who, folk legend tells us, lost his mind over a woman's footprints in the dust somewhere east of Pecos1Onella Penny smoked a pipeP.A. tobacco you could smelltwo yards overnobody every mentionedoutside our neighborhoodbut what finally made her famousafter the big stompwas when we noticed how she walked so hardfor a woman who wasn'tto speak of necessarilyfleshyin a dry seasonher steps wove dustcyclone children on the wayto the trash barrel or clothes linepast her ankles, swirlsalmost to her knees so thatone August morningBilly Klogphorne and Clovis Ledbitterperched on the back porch furnituremorning coffeeing in short sleeved shirtssaw her emerge like Venusin an ocean of heat waveswith a kitchen trashbucketfootstep whirlwindsall around her back yard, in immaculate TexaneseClovis said One them air dust devilsgets under her housecoatup her nightgown arisingshe'll lift herselflike a full grown female angelright off the groundI betshelooked smartly their wayso Billy couldn't laugh or take the wagerleaned over and pretendedsomething in his coffeecupneeded to be looked atanything else right thenwas not going to be worth the chance2Then the day Marvin Pennycame outsidelooking like second placein a two entrantworld champion fist whippingshe becamelegendneither one surprisedafter they heard the screamthrough the housewalls across the yardto the back porch PBR libationswhen she learned the rumorof his gallavantation with Kim PierceBilly in perfect Tejano splendor saidClovisthat isn't no knuckebumps on his headyou get up and look closeI'll put two dollarsyougn see a clear footprintfrom his busted lipup between and pastthat eye'll be swolt black tomorrowwith a bloody nose in the middleClovis said No betthat looks to be a fact3When Cephas Bilberry heardat the Dew Drop Inn that nighthe said Well I hope Marvin he learnta lesson from it either waywhatever it was needingsuch immediate educationBilly said I imagine he didCephas said That being what?Billy said Next timehe gets knocked on his asshe'll make sure he falls downso the following foot marksdon't showCephassaid You meanwhoever did that stompit was after he'd already been knocked down?Clovis saidUnless she can walk around in the airstomping on heads, you knowa better way?Billy saidIf it's a pointneeds to be madeor a trailway to be commendedit might as well be stated properso the muckling effortdoesn't need to be repeatedCephassaid Well that might be rightClovis said Yepever footstep in this droughtraises a genuine cyclome or leaves a printsometimes permanentand that's not blowing smokeor preacher talkand Cephas said Godamitey's mamaaint it the truth?4Juan Diego Mendiettaunloading a case of Pabst's Blue Ribbon beerinto the ice cooler at the Dew Drop Innheard a voicesaying A woman who walked in airleft a footprint on the faceof Marvin Pennythat could be seen clearlywith one's own eyesthat nighthe told Father Gutierrezthe things he heard but the Padreshook his head sadly and said No my sonthese are the words of a fooldrunk on bootleg beeryou must try to remembermilagros almost never occur in Tejaswhere there are too many gringosfor the Lord's worksoJuan Diego Mendiettawent home in despairhis hope of imparting a miracle's appearanceshattered like his youthful dreamsof making love to Hooter Haginsbut he told his wife Eva who some saidwas de la familia de las brujaswhile he ate the tacos she made for himwhat he heard spoken clearly who toldher sister Maria Calvoneswho told her cousin Isabel Ramoneswho cleaned Onella Penny's houseevery Monday from nine en la mananauntil la hora de cuatro in the afternoonwho went to the Penny casathe next morning even though it was a Thursdayand knockedwhen heopened his door he saidYou aint posta be here today yetit aint Monday is it?she screamed and pressed her hands to her cheeksthe inbdelible print of a footclearly visible on Marvin Penny's face¡Madre de dios! she screamedhe said What the hell?but Isabel Ramones turned and randown the calle shouting¡Es un Milagro! ¡Un Milagro!soonvotary candles appeared nightly on the porchof Onella and Marvin Penny's homewhich he removed and threwinto the garbage barrel in his dusty back yarduntil Onella stopped him sayingYou leave those goddam thingsright where they are and he saidYes dearentoncesfor a decade the casa de Pennybecame a flickering shrine to the miraculousfootprint of the Virgin seen by manyincluding Juan Diego Mendiettawho was said to be the first witnessand Isabel Ramones who gave the miracleconfirmationand it came to passat last Onella died of consumptionand el viejo Marvin Penny grew old and sacredthe hairs of his head white as snowand en la tarde when he wentinto his dusty yardto sit in the warm sun and rememberall those events of his lifethat never actually occurredla gente would come to his houseto sit at his knees and view his facewhere at timeswhen the lightshone from the exact right anglea small perfect footprintcould be seen by a select fewwho were chosen to be witnessand the paisanos would touch his shouldersand the denim fabric of his clothingwhispering to himbeseeching forgivenessDavid Lee was raised in West Texas, my home. He is the author of twenty books of poetry, the first Poet Laureate of Utah, and recently retired as the Chairman of the Department of Language and Literature at Southern Utah University. His many awards include the Mountain & Plains Booksellers Award in Poetry, the Western States Book Award in Poetry, and the Utah Governor's Award for lifetime achievement.

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Last Call - David Lee

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