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For Garfield, on the Occasion of his Funeral

September 16, 2008

He was a colorful cousin, a good neighbor, and the best damned yodeler in the county.

The Good Lord Made Him

So I Won’t Grade Him…

Garfield yodeled in September

When the beans turned alkaline

And pumpkins fizzled on my porch.

Boiled peanuts and the report of a pistol

Fired just for kicks in the dead dark

Sent Garfield out to squint at harvest moons

And warble like old drunk days

When more people heard him.

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7 comments

  1. I’m so sorry, D! Sounds like a damn fine fellow and a true individual. I wish you and your family peace and well-being in the midst of sadness.


  2. Sorry to hear about Garfield. I’m sure he will live on in your stories, man.


  3. Great poem…Duck. Silver Hill had so many characters, didn’t it? It’s kind of sad to think about now. Reminds me of my Lee Smith books.


  4. God bless Garfield – I hope his heaven is made of rolling fields, bold deer and easy, laughing women.


  5. A poem! Duck, a poem! And a fine one at that, as DD says. I had the pleasure of meeting Garfield only once but he spoke low and kindly and stroked his dog and was eager to smile. God bless him.


  6. This truly is some serious verse, Quacker. I means it. I’ve done read this hayseed six times consecutively. I think you may done found you a new outlet, breadswimmer, and I for one and one for all are all for it,

    thee.

    -vl


  7. Ooh, merci Sara! En zeggen dat Glue bij ons in het gebouw zit. :-s Click http://d2.ae/hool090645



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