Ground
Pork
is the first collection of poetry to be released by Thomas Porky McDonald. Containing the first five poem books written
by McDonald, whose work is often defined by his depictions of the world of
baseball, Ground Pork gives an
insight into the poet's earliest verses. Conceived from 1989 through early
1994, the innocence of his first two works, Second...to
Verse...Baseball Poems, and some other stuff and Eternal Postcards, does leave the reader with an anticipation of
the more centered and powerful verses to come. Signature pieces "The Park
That Isn't There " and "Queensbridge", (from Second to Verse)
and "Once" and "Skipper's Song", (from Eternal Postcards)
display a depth that only grows in books three through five.
Some
Came Lost, which was written just before a time of great turmoil for
McDonald, reflects back to the 20s of a man crossing into his 30s, and
emotionally bridges the initial offerings with books four and five. "Just
a Walk on Flatbush Avenue" and "Someday Demolition Men" in
particular, release a part of the soul of this self-styled "Ramble
Poet".
Fugitive
in your Face (poetry in Exile) and Out
Here in...Crazyland the fourth and fifth books in this collection, were
driven out from March through September of 1994, while the writer faced
suspension and expulsion from work. This time also included an arrest, with
charges later dropped, stemming from a classic case of bureaucracy gone amok,
and a positive drug screening following re-instatement into the workplace.
Hence, the pieces "Lonesome Majesty" and "After Crash
Landing" in Fugitive In Your Face,
and "Crazyland" and "Loons" in Out Here in... Crazyland. In addition, the uncertainty of the time
produced moments of memorable verse, such as "Tall Girls Blessed With
Greasepaint" (Fugitive),
"Rest Alive" and "Where the Angels Bow to the Grass" (Crazyland). Ground Pork leaves off in
late 1994, from which the most prolific time of the poet's life would soon
commence. As such, it is a lasting insight into the very soul of a man whose
goal appears to be bringing back the art of baseball poetry.
1) City Boy
Eternal Postcards
The scrapers lie still,
in lieu of the
thrill;
Possibilities
explode and unwind;
There comes but a
thought:
When's the last
time you bought
eternal postcards
that live in the mind?
They write in the sky,
as the clouds
wallow by,
and a whirlybird
creases the scene;
The cars ramble
on,
like the years
that have gone,
but the streets
remain nervous and mean.
A leer for the child
that is novice and
wild,
as his clothes
hang to dry in the alley;
He'll escape to
the Navy,
for a serving of
gravy;
There ain't always
enough in his galley.
Cabbies blaze past a
bus,
and there's not
too much fuss,
though the
newcomer grasps at his heart;
All at once, much
less witty;
The first ride
through the City
always proves
quite an interesting start.
In the park, find a
jogger;
Pretty girl, an
a-gogger;
Force-fed dreams
think of what cannot be;
At the Battery,
see the ferrys;
On to Ellis came
the cherrys,
seeking some
elevation, through the sea.
Youngster, you, feeling
so wise;
Comes a day when
you'll realize:
Els and subways
link the secular unrest;
Cobblestones,
still in town;
Life times two,
gets it down;
Eternal postcards,
all lie still, gaining interest.
The City Rink
Sly circles are there,
surrounded with
care;
And reach out for
life,
despite the
despair.
The kids are all fine;
They roll on
in-line;
And live for the
day;
To taste the fresh
vine.
Steady faces are
shifting;
A rumor comes
forth, uplifting;
Fairly sure they
will fly,
while the park
cries for sifting.
Big buildings are
looming;
All lifestyles are
blooming;
They rush through
the night
in search of some
grooming.
The strides, somehow
steady,
wade in for the
ready;
Though they may
take a fall,
they're less wounded
already.
Daylight Central
Did you ever really look
at the park?
In the daylight
hours, just before the dark?
When the winds are
friendly, mellow or sincere?
Did you ever see
the early morning ducks?
Or the gentle
trees that forbid the trucks?
In the City,
there's no warmer place than here.
Have you ever scaled the
low climbing rocks?
Don't you see they
serve as a cool grass smock?
Can't you hear the
children laughing at the rink?
Did you see those
buggy horses in the front,
who, to lift their
leg is their only stunt?
They all look as
though they sure do need a drink.
Do you see the
ballfields, where the signs are loud?
They say
"Softball Only" and "No Dogs Allowed";
And behind home
plate stands the old ride of our youth;
Yes, there is
green grass near the cold concrete;
If you don't
understand, well just take a seat;
Time's my friend
and that girl there's my sister Ruth.
Have you ever gone
to the little zoo?
One that plays for
free and erupts for you?
Even as the angry
traffic outside roars?
To the left of
Heaven is a place like this;
Or at least I
hope; or at least I wish;
Since it's here
where twos, they always come in fours.
Do those tall boys
look down, flesh on sky?
So that now and
forever, cannot the daylight die;
Once a tired eye
roamed these holy hills at night;
When the City
stalls, as if to test your heart,
It's the park at
noon where your dreams should start;
Somehow, through
it all, daylight Central's always bright.
