{"id":6899,"date":"2019-02-11T19:47:14","date_gmt":"2019-02-11T19:47:14","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/?p=6899"},"modified":"2019-09-23T15:11:29","modified_gmt":"2019-09-23T15:11:29","slug":"dream-the-old-dude-with-big-side-whiskers-on-being-called-honey-by-a-waitress-named-kitty-poems-by-rw-haynes","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/dream-the-old-dude-with-big-side-whiskers-on-being-called-honey-by-a-waitress-named-kitty-poems-by-rw-haynes\/","title":{"rendered":"Dream: The Old Dude with Big Side-Whiskers – On Being Called Honey by a Waitress Named Kitty. Poems by RW Haynes."},"content":{"rendered":"
Dream: The Old Dude with Big Side-Whiskers                     On Being Called Honey by a Waitress Named Kitty\r\n                                                                                                  \r\nYes, Old Ibsen was indeed a sight,                                            I\u2019ll have the Boot Hill burger, I believe, \r\nAppearing in a dim-lit dream where I                                       As the young cowboy said, and some fries\u2026\r\nLay, probably snoring, on an anxious night,                             Where does a man end up when he dies?\r\nHis whispery voice, a dagger-scraping sigh,                             When I used to keep a card up my sleeve\r\nDisdainful but intent, urgent to be heard,                                   I knew it was safe with my back to the door\r\nSaid, \u201cListen, cracker, once I had it all                                      And a cup of hot coffee, my hair slicked back,\r\nFrom my Muses, and then onstage my word                             And pieces of silver in a small leather sack,\r\nWas their law as surely as avalanches fall.                                But now you can\u2019t trust nothing any more.\r\nAt dinner my fellow Norwegians would rise                            There used to be a train that ran each day\r\nWhen I appeared, and the Queen gave to me                            Through here, and then you could get away  \r\nAs Royal Playwright a Royal Garden key,                                From everything. You could go or stay,\r\nAnd I prospered mightily in all men\u2019s eyes.                              As the spirit rolled the dice and smiled,\r\nBut I tell you now, and listen well to me,                                  Time to go, sometimes time to play,\r\nYour work is diminished by prosperity.                                     Happy as a hog and careless as a child.\r\n\r\n\r\nThe wisdom we seek in optimistic dreams                                You don\u2019t want to hear an old man\u2019s lies,\r\nMoves through life, when captured, delusive,                           But everything else he has has dried,\r\nThough the silence biding Mrs. Alving\u2019s screams                     And his friends and all of his dogs have died,\r\nDefies the mutable, the shifty and elusive.                                And there\u2019s not much fire burning in his eyes,\r\nOld age calls for a mature intensity                                           And you\u2019ll never know how hard the man has lied\r\nReaching always toward ghostly shades                                    Or how many shots he took long ago                  \r\nHovering maliciously in dark immensity,                                  That no one remembers or ever will know.\r\nClutching their rust-rotten, blood-rusted blades.                       Hell, it don\u2019t matter now what all he tried,\r\nWake up, forget the clowns and their clamor,                            But when you call him honey, honey, just try\r\nTurn to my Muses, the grim inspiration                                     To give him a hard look straight in the eye                                  \r\nOf rough-edged insight, of ax and of hammer,                          To stir up them ashes he\u2019s cherishing inside,\r\nThe poet\u2019s kind of living, the deadly vocation.                          And the angels will sing for you, loud and sweet,\r\nIf I had my work to do again, it\u2019s true,                                       And heaven\u2019s gates will shake and open wide\r\nI\u2019d write my work in blood, and so should you.\u201d                       When you bring sacrifice for him to eat.\r\n\r\n\r\n\"\"<\/a>\r\n\r\n\r\n<\/pre>\n
R. W. Haynes has taught literature at Texas A&M International University since 1992. His recent interests include the early British sonnet, and he is completing a second book on the Texas playwright and screenwriter Horton Foote (1916-2009). In his poetry, Haynes seeks to celebrate life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness without sounding any more dissonant notes than he has to. In fiction, he works toward grasping that part of the past which made its mark on his generation. He enjoys teaching drama, especially the Greeks, Ibsen, and Shakespeare, and he devoutly hopes for a stunning literary Renaissance in South Texas.<\/strong><\/p>\n
 
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\nRobin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times<\/a> ; his publications include
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\nAll the Babble of the Souk<\/em> <\/a>, Cartoon Molecules<\/em> and Next Arrivals<\/em>, collected poems, as well as translation of Guadalupe Grande\u00b4s La llave de niebla, as  Key of Mist<\/em> <\/a> and the recently published Tesserae<\/em> <\/a> <\/u>, a translation of Carmen Crespo\u00b4s Teselas.
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\nYou may visit Aquillrelle.com\/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop <\/a>about author.  See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)<\/a><\/p>\n
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Dream: The Old Dude with Big Side-Whiskers On Being Called Honey by a Waitress Named Kitty Yes, Old Ibsen was indeed a sight, I\u2019ll have the Boot Hill burger, I believe, Appearing in a dim-lit dream where I As the young cowboy said, and some fries\u2026 Lay, probably snoring, on an anxious night, Where does … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[808,796,366,401,43,226,504],"tags":[18,136,3,101],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6899"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6899"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6899\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7126,"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6899\/revisions\/7126"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6899"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6899"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6899"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}