SEATTLE, Washington, March 17. – Robert Moran, President of the Moran Brothers’ Company, builders of the battleship Nebraska, announced to-day the sale of the control of their company to Eastern capitalists associated with the Griscoms of Philadelphia….A new corporation will be organized bearing the title of the Moran company. – New York Times, March 18, 1906
But money scuttles memory, hollow
As sunken loss of love for ships.
I sold my interest – do you follow? –
And never – did I? – came to grips
With what came next: The day of purchase
Was all whimsy on the surface –
The auction hammer fell between
That Paddy’s Day of good poitín
And holy Joseph’s feast of somber
Remorse… That sale between the saints
Forever scorches more than paints
The old Seattle I remember.
The man Moran had saved the town –
The name Moran sails on alone.
You guys, don’t tell anyone, but I’ve approached a Friend of Korrektiv about illustrating the ebook we eventually make out of these…every sad sack Seattle poet will buy a copy!
Illustrations? Time to test the saying, ‘You get what you pay for’.
So, we’re did good, eh?
Hard to say out here in Badgerland….
JOB
Love that closing couplet, JOB. An elegant parallel.
It took awhile and a mile of wanting beyond wanting some sort of palidrome…
JOB
Er, that’s palindrome, I meant.
JOB
Splendid poem. Thanks.
I’d bet you’d make local public radio with that book.
That’s terrybly Gross to think about…
JOB
Endearing. Nicely done, JOB. This is too much fun.
Love that banjo!
JOB