4 poems assembled from the Indiana Board of Health annual report, 1877

I. UNTITLED
The general health of the inmates for the year was good,
the death of twin babes being the only ones recorded.

II. A HOME FOR UNFORTUNATES
Found one weak-minded girl,
about four years old
tied to a rope on the porch.
She is quite shy and timid.
On her head were nests of vermin.

One insane woman had set fire to the institution,
removed some iron bars from the window
of her room in the basement
and then escaped.
She is now chained to the floor.

Maternity
the greatest privilege,
destiny of woman
is illy borne by them.
They may give birth to one child,
seldom more.
Then for the remainder of life
comes invalidism
and the gynecologist.

III. THE DRY CLOSET SYSTEM OF DISPOSING OF EXCREMENT
And so foul is the odor
that issues therefrom
that the stoutest stomach
will rebel against him.

Who has the temerity
to lift the plank that covers it
and look in?

Instead of hiding away
in pits and sinks
or slushing miles of filth
The Giant is to be strangled
in its cradle
by the constant watchfulness
of draft
and evaporation.

IV. FROM NOVEMBER TO MARCH
Without restriction
all dead bodies may be transported
except:
those who die of
diphtheria
scarlet fever
typhoid fever
erysipelas
measles.

Those bodies must be wrapped in a sheet
thoroughly saturated  with
a solution of chloride
of zinc
encased in an antiseptic
interment sack,
hermetically sealed in
a coffin
which must be enclosed
in  a tight wooden box.

Under all circumstances
the funeral should be strictly private
a public one  should never be tolerated.

Bonus inches of meat

You’ve been scammed lsorg
You’re a moron
You’re brilliant,
huffy,
gospel virtuous

Extend your rod
upside down
Succinctly bomb her womb
Insert spawn
bonus inches of meat

Hey, palm tennis shoe
I was looking for you
I missed you
I’m lonely
I’m tired

Don’t be shy
I wonder why
You’re still shy

Assembled from spam e-mail subject lines

Night prior

Assembled from the Twitter feed of the
NC State University Campus Police

Officers responded
 to reports of person         

  pretending to shoot  
       imaginary guns

                                                   Warning issued

        suspicious person
speaking in loud voice

                                                      Unable to locate

someone preaching loudly 

                                                     Had a permit

alarm
caused by air
freshener

alarm
caused by hair
straightener

alarm
    caused by curling
 iron

persons engaged in
         inappropriate
behavior in Schenk
                       Forest

                                                        Told to leave

         goats escaped from         
         their enclosure

                                                          Upon arrival
                                                                  goats were back

people moving cameras
   in Free Speech Tunnel

                                                                    No action taken

          person gathering
                                 soil

                                                                          Was planting flowers

     person using metal
                        detector

                                                                Was advised of
                                                                        university
                                                                               policy

     person walking on
                      handrail

                                                                     Was advised
                                                                           to refrain
                                                            for safety reasons

         child screaming

                                                                 Had not slept
                                                                       night prior

Poppies: a fallow field of concrete

poppies 1.jpg

Someone had a vision. Resurrect an abandoned shopping center in southwest Durham. They would call it Poppies, as in the flower that was adopted as a symbol of remembrance after  the First World War.

poppies 4.jpg

I took these photos in December 2014, years after disinterest, a stock market crash, financing, poor urban planning, and inertia had conspired to stop Poppies.

An Indian restaurant, the only attraction along the former Poppies strip, had surrendered and built a new, even more successful eatery across the boulevard. About a block away at South Square, Target, Sam’s Club and other big box stores flourished.

But the vision of bustling bookshops and grocers and cafes, depicted on large canvasses that developers had draped over the facade, instead had dimmed to become a field of fallow concrete.

poppies2.jpg

Durham-Chapel Hill Boulevard can be hostile and unforgiving for people without a car. Walking and biking are dangerous, even on the service roads. The No. 10 bus route runs nearby. One morning I took that bus, then on foot crossed the six lanes of the boulevard with a man who had just finished the overnight shift as a security guard at Duke Hospital. He was so very tired, his gait more a shuffle than a walk.

poppies 8.jpg

Since I took these photos, all of the buildings on the 15-acre lot have been leveled, the cement scraped clean.

poppies 7.jpg

poppies 5.jpg

Last week, a Charlotte developer announced it would build a mixed-use project there, with apartments, restaurants, offices and a fitness center. It will be called “University Hill,” and include an art project of 25,000 square feet of murals.

poppies6.jpg

 

Ode to the metal lunchbox

lunchbox

Black or silver, it was shaped like a camel back trunk, with two chrome latches on the front. A swing arm locked the glass-lined thermos inside the domed lid. The metal “workingman’s” lunchbox—although plenty of women carried one, too—symbolized the can-do spirit of manual labor.

My dad carried a black metal lunchbox to a General Motors factory., where he worked the night shift as a machinist. Each weekday afternoon at around 3:30, my mother would lovingly stuff his lunchbox with enough food to feed the Donner Party: five sandwiches on white bread—two grape jelly, plus one each of bologna, pickle-pimento loaf and peanut butter—plus an apple and a thermos of whole milk.

The work was such that my father did not get fat. At 5 feet 10 inches and 185 pounds, he had forearms the size of rear axles, sculpted by years

of wrestling with borers and grinders, jig mills and lathes. He would stand all night at his workbench, his feet snug and sweating in leather boots that deflected sharp flakes of hot steel onto the oily concrete floor.

Meanwhile, in the cool cave of his lunchbox slept the sandwiches, which, like his toes, needed protecting.

In 1979, nearly 20 million men and women were working in factories and mills. A sturdy metal lunchbox could withstand the rigors of the harsh environments—heat, cold, falls from tables and benches.

Yet as the number of blue-collar workers declined so did the need for the metal lunchbox. My dad got a promotion and began wearing a tie and regular shoes to work. He carried his lunch in a plain brown sack.

Now we work at service or desk jobs. To bring a metal lunchbox into a such a workplace would be pretentious. What would we protect our lunch from? [2:00]

Falling megabytes? Paper cuts? Office gossip?

In the daily ritual of lunch making, my mother’s final touch was to write my father a note and then slip it among the sandwiches. I don’t know the contents of these letters—to read them would have been an unthinkable breach of my parents’ intimacy—but I always knew when she had finished one by the brisk strokes of her pen as she dashed a constellation of x’s and o’s at the bottom of the page.

My father took his lunch break at 8:30 each evening. I imagine him sitting at his workbench with his lunchbox agape and reading a love letter from his wife, who at that moment was readying their children for bed. Then he would neatly fold it  and place it inside for safekeeping.

Other concerns

The City of Durham has a One Call app for smartphones that people can use to report issues in their neighborhood. This is a selection of complaints that have been lodged this summer.

The grass near the 7 GoDurham bus stop is wild.

Highway just cut grass
and ran over a mattress.
Please discard mattress.

We live next to a car wash
that has a dumpster.
A colony of rats seems
to have made this area
their home.
And there seems to be
quite a robust city
forming.

More than half the year
I beat the most efficient home.
And I have never used more energy
than other homes of similar size.
This is a point of pride for me.
I have no idea
how my water usage
compares to other homes.
Knowing that I am beating others
in water use,
or not,
is a great motivator.

Our whole street needs rocks.

Dog was bleeding profusely from his head.

Dead possum in back yard.
How do I dispose of it?
Do you need to test for rabies?
It’s going in the trash if I don’t hear back.
Might as well close this.
No response.
Or action.
Dead animal is in
the city landfill by now.