Local Verse: Pamela

So the other half of the Edward Hirsch as Poet-in-Residence is that he was a pompous academic, and not the approachable artist an aspiring poet would like to meet.  Yes, he led us around the Art Institute (which is fanTAStic by the way.  You should go the next time you're in Chicago!  And then go eat a hot dog for me...), and we gazed at paintings and discussed their meanings.  There was this moment as we stood in front of a painting that spoiled the man for me forever.  I don't even remember the title of the painting, but I can still see it in my head.  To me, it completely told the tale of Jonathan Swift's story "A Modest Proposal."  I swear to my grave the people in that painting were miserable and were going to eat that baby.  Ed, perhaps disgusted that no one else had anything else to say, turned to me and said, "You're wrong."  I'm sure he explained why, but I was pretty much done with him at that point.  Art is open to interpretation, as is poetry.  The artist/writer may mean one thing, but I think every individual viewer/reader brings their own story away from the end result.  Ed did inspire me to write a poem about him, however.  I read over it and only understand some of my own references with a high school giggle.  I'll leave it open to your interpretation.


ED.  (Dedicated to Edward Hirsch, Poet-in-Residence.)

Oh god.
Get me out of here.
Away from kids and paintings and laughings.
I am Ed.
I don't need this.
Do you have any Questions?
                            Complaints?
                            Dreams for the future?
                            about that?
YOU'RE WRONG!

Leave me alone.
With your England and Kangaroos
and eating babies.
Because
I am Ed.
A poet-in-residence
sho doesn't need this
except
for the money
and
to realize
my
sexual frustrations.


Pamela A. Moeller  '92