Monday, April 1, 2013


Kendall Merriam

South End Poet








Kendall Merriam was born and raised in Rockland, Maine. He has a history degree from Gordon College in Wenham, MA and graduate studies in military and maritime history at the University of Maine at Orono and Mystic Seaport in Mystic, Conn. He also received grants to study historical research at Colonial Williamsburg and the National Archives in Washington, D.C. Merriam has been widely published, including in Katyn W Literaturze(Katyn in Literature), a Polish anthology of literary works about the WWII Katyn Forest Massacre by 120 international authors, including Czeslaw Milosz. Merriam has written more than twenty books and plays. Most of Merriam’s work has a definite muse – family, friends, and strangers – with life’s larger themes of work, love, loss and death. On April 29, 2010, Merriam was appointed Rockland, Maine’s Inaugural Poet Laureate, an honor from his hometown Merriam cherishes.

 

 

(Kendall’s second poem this month is actually by his wife, Phyllis. As Kendall says, “The House of Forty Doors must be one of the best written about the South End, including all of mine. I must say I have to agree with him. It was written as a present to him on his 71st birthday.)
 
OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVE POETRY DISORDER
For all poets, everywhere
 
Can you refrain from putting pen to paper, typewriter, computer
No matter where you are
If you don’t have paper in a Chinese restaurant
Do you write poems on the back of placemats
In a sort of Chinese
Even though you only have a slightest knowledge of Li Bai or Du Fu
Can you hold yourself from writing when seeing a beautiful woman or handsome man
Do you aspire to become the poet laureate
Of your town, city, county, state, nation, world, the Universe
Do you send out poems to every magazine that has ever published a poem
Have you considered changing your name to W. S. Merwin
So you can finally make it to the New Yorker
Do you pay fees to books and contests to try to get recognized
Do you travel to obscure countries to read and get translated
Into a little known language
Do you take your poetry to every session with your therapist
When no one is buying your books do you give them away
To complete strangers
Do you claim to have started writing poetry at age eight
When your family knows you couldn’t read until you were fifteen
Do you insist that your partner read your latest work
Immediately upon completion
Then sulk if they say it needs work
Do you sulk when you are not invited to poetry conferences
Even though it would be a 100 mile trip and you would not be paid
And the food is inadequate
If you are suffering from all or even some of these symptoms
You definitely are suffering with obsessive compulsive poetry disorder (OCPD)
For which there is no known cure.
 
Kendall Merriam, Home,
3/20/13  6:23 PM Listening to the furnace.



THE HOUSE OF FORTY DOORS

An Interior landscape

 

For Kendall on his 71st birthday 1-24-2013

 

 

I live in my house as I live in my skin:

I know more beautiful, more ample,

more sturdy and more picturesque skins:

but it would seem to me unnatural

to exchange them for mine.

                                                -Primo Levi

 

 

 

Early January morning light

illumes the white cellar door

gateway to rubble foundation

that shifts in winter’s freeze

and April’s melt

drawing light lines in the plaster

walls of this 19th Century house

like spider’s webs that expand

in the warmth and light

like the family that expands

with the love

from many generations

now come home again to

dwell, dream in your childhood home

 

 

1.The Kitchen: Processing

 

Afternoon light travels, pauses

over the copper-topped table

original design and built by your father

where once mid-century blue linoleum

blessed meals for nine souls gathered

fournow gone from this house and this life

 

Four doorways mark the kitchen’s boundaries

five layers of wallpaper - the last one - Chinese junks

with battened sails on tissue paper too fragile to save

the big porcelain sink resettled into new countertops

raised to offer tall cooks a view of The Bay

 

Three tall twelve-paned windows replaced fifty years ago

for single-paned squares leaking air to frost

new and revealed bead board unify more than a century

of southern yellow pine hidden beneath faded linoleum

lead to the kitchen’s two side doors, outdoors

to the ghost of the side porch and two-story white barn now

reconfigured into an out building with one door

 

A laundry room behind the fourth door

once a small bathroom with claw foot tub

labored by two strong men up the front circular stairs

to a new home on the second floor

joined by old porcelain sinks paired to

the Boston monogrammed toilet

now spares inhabitants in winter’s grip

long nocturnal trips downstairs

 

 

       2.    The Study: Methods of Communication

 

Off the kitchen with five doors and two doorways is a much

used room for Wi-Fi, writing, dreaming, e-mailing, bill paying,

TV watching, telephoning, recovering from surgeries, practicing with canes

It embraces an alcove with built-in bookcases holding favorites

and the old square post office clock rescued from 1960’s urban renewal

a room where your father always fell asleep over 11 PM news

where he spent his last days before the nursing home

wandering the house, calling out for his dead wife, learning again and

again the grief of her going

 

 

3.    The Eastside Doorway: Over Exposed

 

An entryway with an inner and two outer doors greets

all who enter or leave from or to the white-bannistered porch

photographers and videographers prefer the

two arched windows – one etched, one plain

have greeted a thousand souls since 1860

those selling false gods turned away

while cats who beg are welcomed

 

 

4.    The Downstairs Bathroom: The Importance of Washing

 

A long room exactly matching its sister bathroom

now re-arranged upstairs

a green medicine cabinet matched a green door

the shower, new in the 1980’s, used only to

water houseplants – the iron tub the favorite child

the space capsule shower might launch the bather

if you fell in the tub you knew where you were

a mysterious back door leads to nowhere now

you could air off from the shower

startling the neighbors

where once the door led to the oldest part

eaten up by heavy machinery

to appease insurance coverage

 

 

5.    The Dining Room: Under-Developed

 

Southern yellow pine covers the floor

Where underneath teapot wallpaper

runes of earlier dwellers are hidden now

under Benjamin Moore’s lemon ice

a New Jersey grandmother’s buffets face off

near the mantle bereft of its chimney, now gone

four doorways with two doors encircle a room

used infrequently now

the kitchen table a better altar for communing

with family, friends, each other

 

 

6.    The Living Room: Elemental Light

 

Two bay windows are now one

The non-historical wide-screen window frames

the Head of the Bay blue with four daily tides

my mother-in-law counted as her last days dwindled down

and she left, one last kiss from her seven-decades-spouse

then carried out the two front doors by Burpee’s men

leaving by front doors - the final exit in New England

this room transformed from vinyl and

miniature golf green to sea glass colors

the same room where dozing in

the sun and heat your parents dozed

we now fall asleep in winter’s solar embrace

 

 

7.    The Circular Stairwell: Step By Step Processing

 

A two-story-three-door hallway embraces the light of lemon walls

curved to meet the railing of steam-bent walnut

the shipyard craft of bending, pinning wood to shapes

a ghost of an older newel post traces the floor to

the fourteen stair assent to our bedroom

where your parents conceived the seven children

of your generation now moving toward an antique stage

 

8.    The Front Bedroom: Heat and Light

 

Two “eyes” overlook The Bay in another room of light

where you write and we love

you more than we when young and more agile

more books now layer each side of the bed

yours full of history, poems – yours and friends

my side art, biography, photography

outside the white door on the landing

a tiny door under attic stairs leads nowhere

a hidden space for children to hide

 

9.    The Buddha Room: Single Toning

 

A spare room for infrequent single guests

once your sister’s room in girlhood’s joy

now holds my lost brother’s ashes waiting

ten years now for a time when I can give him

up to the sea’s final rest

meanwhile this Asian room meditates

with Buddha’s blessings

and Asian silks

 

 

10. The So-Called Study: Emergency Enlargement

 

This room – a walk-through – to avoid the memory

the sorrow of The Halloween Boy, your brother, so young

who ended his life here so many decades ago

pain remains in the walls and in our hearts

 

 

11. A Makeshift Bathroom: Variable Contrast

 

Two rooms into two different spaces with

three doors and a half-wall dividing one

room for collages, assemblages, watercolors

endless collections for my retirement into art

the other half the upstairs bathroom

not a traditional up-grade, a makeshift room

with old twin sinks, the porcelain claw foot tub

and the Boston toilet hiding

behind Toile de Jouy screens

a room where the carpenter discovered

the live wire in one wall – a triumph of containment

 

 

12. The Back Bedroom: Focus the Image

 

The largest bedroom formalized for us, en suite

given over to guests not familiar with the front bedroom’s

light and life overlooking water, tides, beaches and birds

this was the room where I cried all night when my mother

died before we married – the room where you came to

me in the dark – how could your parents not hear you

creeping along noisy floorboards or in the old bed

with collapsed springs making our cocoon?

eager young love risking every protocol

 

 

13. The Attic: Temperature’s Powerful Effect

 

Narrow stairs both front and back lead to the top

of the house with high views over the harbor

the place your father sanded, smoothed, re-painted 40 doors

high rooflines hold his neatly placed battens to keep out cold

the four-storied-re-built-twice-chimney soars beyond reach

stored and scattered belongings of generations fill the space

some objects too sacred to abandon

others too heavy, left for the next dweller

a place for a sad child to hide or

a dreamer to watch gulls fly by so near or

crows in spruce only an arm’s length away

 

 

 

Your day closes down with rose and violet blue over The Bay

the moon moves across the sky – almost full in admiration

sea smoke danced on winter water a day or two ago

anticipating praise of your day arriving with Arctic’s breath

another winter adds to your decades before we gathered together

we have added fifty more to focus the image

now in some anxiety

we wonder how long we can manage this big house we love

how long will we live? who will be the first to see the other die?

let us avoid that moment for as long as we can and

honor this house and our ancestors and

write your poems for all who love you


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 

 

No comments:

Post a Comment