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Ancestral Voices: Poems
Ancestral Voices: Poems
Ancestral Voices: Poems
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Ancestral Voices: Poems

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In Ancestral Voices, the scholar and poet Barton R. Friedman (1935–2009) draws upon a lifetime of deeply felt experience to create this collection. Composed at various points throughout his seventy-four years, the poems animate chronic issues in American society—race, class, war—and also give voice to personal moments

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMar 1, 2019
ISBN9780998282169
Ancestral Voices: Poems
Author

Barton R. Friedman

Barton R. Friedman is the author of Fabricating History, English Writers on the French Revolution and Adventures in the Deeps of the Mind, both from Princeton University Press, and the poetry collection You Can't Tell the Players, published by Cleveland State University Press. Friedman was a professor of English at the University of Wisconsin-Madison and Cleveland State University.

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    Book preview

    Ancestral Voices - Barton R. Friedman

    Ancestral Voices


    Also by Barton Friedman

    Poetic Knowing

    Fabricating History: English Writers on the French Revolution

    You Can’t Tell the Players

    Adventures in the Deep of the Mind

    and numerous scholarly articles


    I, who recalled that Blake danced naked in the sun

    am publishing this book of Bart’s poems

    because, for me, heaven is only on earth

    and in the fond memories and admiration

    of those we left behind.

    His wife,

    Sheila


    Copyright © 2019, Barton R. Friedman

    All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

    First Parafine Press Edition 2019

    ISBN: 978-0-9982821-5-2

    Parafine Press

    3143 West 33 rd  Street, Cleveland, Ohio 44109

    www.parafinepress.com

    Book and cover design by Meredith Pangrace


    Contents

    I. Travelog

    The Puppeteer Appears

    The London Love Song

    Parable

    Isabella Responds

    Climbing in the Cuillens

    Water Rights

    Drifting

    Kaleidoscope

    Cop Poems

    Dodge City, Kansas

    To a Daughter of Virginia Aristocracy Raped by a Black Man in Madison, Wisconsin

    Demon Est Deus Inversus

    Jim Thorpe’s Football

    Brendan’s Song

    Ballad of Billy’s Bomb-Balls

    In the Palace of Nations

    II. War Poems

    Ecce Homo

    History

    Ancestral Voices

    Epitaph

    To Regensberg, A Dreaming Back

    Camping on Omaha Beach

    Audie Murphy

    The Last Missing Man

    David Besieged

    Maccabbees’ Dream

    Think About a Friend in Israel

    III. Found Poems and Portraitures

    Koheleth Brooding

    Picasso and the Thalidomide Child

    Found Poem

    Uncle Si

    Hemingway

    Death Comes to a Professional Athlete

    What the Silence Said

    How Ronnie Patronized the Arts

    Bearing Witness at the British Museum

    Sto p Press

    Witch Poet Reading

    Entropic

    Desire

    Conversations with L.L.‘s Tape Recorder

    Poetess

    Angelo

    Foster Child

    Chardin at the Cleveland Art Museum

    Lost in the DMZ

    Visiting Thoor Ballylee

    Speculating on the Death of Synge

    The Krishna Mob

    Elegy for a Young Musician

    Teaching the Strokes

    What light , my son

    For John Berryman (not the poet) and Jeff Jenkins, Avalanche, Marcus Baker, September 1983 (by Dan Friedman)

    News for William Blake

    Coda : HPB Addressing Her Initiates


    I. TRAVELOG


    The Puppeteer Appears

    amid his galaxy

    of fixed faces    tells our moon-eyed four

    children, the wicked witch suffers

    dry rot happily

    for all know evil

    should be ugly  ever after

    Hansel and Gretel radiate

    pink bright

    latex innocence guaranteed

    to last.

    No matter

    they’ve oven-baked the witch

    wolfed her gingerbread remains

    with goblets of red wine;

    we know she’ll

    rise again

    Houston

    Minneapolis

    New York

    San Francisco …

    Watching his weathered face bent

    whispering secrets with our children

    I see our faces

    mirrored among wooden faces

    listening

    for secrets

    we once knew?


    London Love Song

    "We used to stay up and talk and never know

    but here the bells tell us what time

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