Wocky Jivvy: Poetry and Art "When the flush of a new-born sun fell first on Eden's green and gold,
Our father Adam sat under the Tree and scratched with a stick in the mould;
And the first rude sketch that the world had seen was joy to his mighty heart,
Till the Devil whispered behind the leaves, "It's pretty, but is it Art?"
from Rudyard Kipling's The Conundrum of the Workshops

divider line and nothing more


* Poetry: Poems by Claire

Motor Mortalis

The loud kerthunk, the quiet hiss --
they mean one thing and that is this:
another call to Stocky Stan,
all praise the sweating Tow Truck Man.

Stan comes with chains and flashing light;
my greased and flanneled erudite.
He huffs and grunts, reveals his plan.
All praise the sweating Tow Truck Man.

He'll raise the roadside corpse on high,
he doesn't care what made it die --
a snapping belt, a frozen fan;
all praise the sweating Tow Truck Man.

He packs his cheek with Redman chew,
recalls the day my engine blew --
the day our grimy tryst began,
all praise the sweating Tow Truck Man.

I climb onto his massive truck,
lie on the hood and curse my luck.
I roll my sleeves, work on my tan,
all praise the sweating Tow Truck Man.

Copyright © 1995 Claire A. Schaeffer

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