Russell Edson

Today I ‘discovered’ Russell Edson,  what an absolute joy.  Here is the first poem I read:

The Wounded Breakfast

A huge shoe mounts up from the horizon,
squealing and grinding forward on small wheels,
even as a man sitting to breakfast on his veranda
is suddenly engulfed in a great shadow, almost
the size of the night . . . 

  He looks up and sees a huge shoe
ponderously mounting out of the earth. 

  Up in the unlaced ankle-part an old woman
stands at a helm behind the great tongue curled
forward; the thick laces dragging like ships' rope
on the ground as the huge thing squeals and
grinds forward; children everywhere, they look
from the shoelace holes, they crowd about the
old woman, even as she pilots this huge shoe
over the earth . . .

  Soon the huge shoe is descending the
opposite horizon, a monstrous snail squealing
and grinding into the earth . . .

  The man turns to his breakfast again, but sees
it's been wounded, the yolk of one of his eggs is
bleeding . . . 
 

They're absurd dreams, they're funny, rude, tender. I read an interview he did, he’s brilliant. And a hermit, which always impresses me. Count me as a big fan.  I did a writing challenge which was to write a poem in his style. Here’s mine. 


Warm Hats

Three small men in jeans, belts, plaid shirts and sneakers, run around the lake every day at lunch,gray smoke curling from their portals-eyes, nostrils, ears, mouth and third eyes. 

Their hands are cupped in front of them, held out from their bodies, thumbs crossed over their palm bowls. 

Nestled in these bowls are tiny nascent living gifts with fragile wispy bones
and membranes thinner than sighs.

A child sings in the grass while her mother knits warm hats on the bench
she watches them run by each day.

One afternoon she jumps up and runs after them laughing, trying to catch the gray smoke, like bubbles.

The men delight in the child’s laughter and slow down a bit. She dances in front of them and swiftly yet gently puts a little warm knit hat over their cupped hands, shielding their gifts.

They thank her and speed up again.