Poem 239

I’m writing these notes on Bob Dylan’s 80th birthday … I used one of his songs as the jumping off point for this poem and these three decades later it’s only clearer to me what an influence he was on what I thought a poem or a song could be – what it could do, subjects and themes it could deal with, the tension between narrative and mystery …  here the message is pretty clear – that there’s something in everyone worthy of pity …

( I like the reference to the fish of Māui, the chime of whether within/withered skin, sideways glance at Paul Simon’s The Boxer which Dylan did a cover of on Self Portrait – and the last verse that returns to the first line (and Dylan’s title) but opens up the metaphor to show us all as human grist caught in the ceaseless grinding of great tectonic forces … )

Poor Immigrant

I pity the poor immigrant
who made this country great
who took the crooked fish of a local god
and carved it straight

I pity the crushed engineer
who sought to construct the truth
a clear skin stretched sea to sea
pinned by an aerial to every roof

I pity the woman in her office
I pity her in her home
whether within her family
or withered to skin and bone

I pity the unemployed
and I pity the ones with jobs
all those with holes in their hands
who think that they were robbed

I pity the winning boxer
who fights whoever he chooses
only to find he must fight again
until he fights and loses

I pity the poor immigrant
I pity the people of the land
I pity the wave I pity the shore
I pity the harried sand