The Birth of a Genre on the Birth of the Bard

I came in to school early this morning to scratch the life out of my freshmen class’ Romeo and Juliet essays, but neither the muse nor the bard would have any of that today. Instead a continuation of a song I had begun scribbling a few weeks ago started pouring out the end of one of my dull art pencils because the words were coming and the sharpener was out of reach.

She’s the Calliope of Coffee,
The Queen of Caffeine
Who wakes every morning
Her Orphian son
Who in jitters and spurts
Scribbles poems and puns
And songs and odes,
Who with shimmery words
Give shapes to dreams
That wisp and swirl
Like coffee that steams
Into thin air…

It was there that my racing mind stopped racing and something urged me from my musings. I came to with my head crooked sideways staring down into a blur of faded book spines at the 4 For A Dollar book sale table in our school library. With stacks of papers to grade I didn’t belong there. And it truth I don’t know how I ended up there, except that I was led. In retrospect I'm fairly certain Calliope, Will and Ray walked me down; I'm not certain if Homer was with them, but whatever the case against my will I was pondering buying books I have no time to read. My eyes raced across the rows and out of the doomed titles lept the Illustrated Man.
The irony, a Bradburian masterpiece on its way to be burned.
And then revelation:
COPYRIGHT, 1951, BY RAY BRADBURY
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
This book is for
Father, Mother, and Skip,
with love.
A first edition of Ray Bradbury’s Illustrated Man. Ray, the greatest living American writer. In 1988 I heard him speak and he changed my life – another story for another day. I have written him over the years. One of my greatest possessions – a handwritten letter:
Dear Dave,
Just back from a summer in France.
Prometheus sounds grand. Keep me posted.
I send you love.
Ray
Really there could have been no more hallowed sign that the muses were calling and that literary lightning was about to strike.
As I tucked the book under my arm and looked back at the table of titles it was as if the titles were tumblers of an ancient and magnificent code and as they started to whirl and spin the poetry began to pour out. An hour later the bell rang, and just as it did I rearranged the last two titles and as far as I can tell, today, April 23rd on William Shakespeare’s birthday, at 8:30 am, Dave’s Song, the first ever Book Table Poem was brought to life. Dedicated to Calliope, William, Ray and most importantly to the love of my life, my muse my immortal wife and partner in creation –Suzi.
Today's photo is the 34 books whose titles are my poem.
Incidentally today I have birthed a couple of blogs as well:
www.booktablepoetry.blogspot.com and www.booktablepoetry.wordpress.com