The Poem
Balancing the Books
by Jack Grapes
What was I going to find in Dark Laughter by Sherwood Anderson?
Though it seems like yesterday I read Winesburg, Ohio back in college.
But I was just as taken by Dark Laughter, his tenth book and fifth novel.
There was something poetic about Anderson’s writing, something
oddly quaint that I knew, even at 21, couldn’t last.
Today I was searching my bookcase,
looking for a particular sentence
to help me realize the possibilities of language,
something besides James Joyce or William Faulkner.
Eventually, I found the sentence, but before I did,
I came across–perhaps I was using it as a bookmark–
a check for $12, dated June 20, 1967.
Now I’m not into all that new age stuff,
but today is June 20th.
Oh, and before I forget, here’s the sentence:
“There was a deep well within every man and woman,
and when Life came in at the door of the house,
that was the body.”
I’m still not sure what Anderson meant by that.
A distrust of formal verbalization, perhaps;
or a particular theory of human nature;
maybe just the discursiveness
of associational psychology.
Who knows?
Does anybody still read Sherwood Anderson?
Probably not, unless it’s Winesburg, Ohio.
Poor Sherwood.
Poor check, used as a bookmark in a book
nobody reads anymore.
Old words on a piece of paper,
hardly worth the paper they’re printed on.
But I’m glad I found those words.
Reading them again after almost fifty years
was better than cashing that check.
Sherwood was still alive in my hands.
I had done him that service, brought him back,
brought his words back,
words he may have written late at night,
or in the early morning, or at his desk
while it rained throughout the afternoon.
When we read the words
of a writer after they’ve died,
do we wake them from their peaceful sleep?
And is the waking a reminder
they once lived on this earth,
even though now that life has become a dream.
Would Sherwood even want to be wakened?
And what about that check for $12, from Jerry Jacobs?
How long did he worry over that uncashed check?
Maybe he still accounts for it,
subtracting $12 from his monthly balance.
It’s June 20th, and somewhere in the world
Jerry’s balancing his checkbook,
waiting for me to cash the check,
his expectation waking me
from my own dream of a life
moving forward
one sentence at a time.
Jack Grapes is an award-winning poet, playwright, actor, teacher, and the editor and publisher of ONTHEBUS, one of the top literary journals in the country. This poem is from Jack’s new book, The Naked Eye. Signed copies may be ordered directly from the poet here.
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Tags: books, Jack Grapes, literature, poems, poetry
Comments (42)
Alexis Rhone Fancher
November 29th, 2012 at 4:16 PM
Ah, Jack! Extraordinary poem. Thought provoking. Delightful. Dazzling. Very much like the poet. No, exactly like the poet.
carolyn
November 29th, 2012 at 4:39 PM
WOW~ how reading a sentence and not cashing a check can say so much about life… and moving on and what we leave behind for others to find. Thank you Jack Grapes! XO
Lisa Segal
November 29th, 2012 at 5:48 PM
sigh . . . .
life like art
art like life
a perfect poem
for a rainy day . . .
Lois
November 29th, 2012 at 5:59 PM
Amazing! The interesting bookmarks in our lives. What a wonderful piece. The check is so personal, unlike anything else that could hold the space. Synchronicity is always special. Made me recall checks I haven't cashed and the sentimental reasons why. Thanks you for your gifts!
Cirelle Raphalian
November 29th, 2012 at 7:40 PM
What a lovely, tender poem. You cashed that check! More!
amelia fleetwood
November 29th, 2012 at 8:40 PM
Thank you Jack,
my heart breaks for the un cashed $12 check and Jerry.
Joel Shearer
November 29th, 2012 at 8:45 PM
Your words always take me on a journey, even through my own contemplation. Thank you for being the North Star, a point of reference, a light at the end of the long tunnel.
Davia Rivka
November 29th, 2012 at 8:54 PM
I love it! I love the way you tie and untie time and words and life. Thank you.
Dana
November 29th, 2012 at 11:05 PM
One sentence at a time, I give thanks to Jack. He wakes us up even though we try to snooze.
Candace Culp
November 30th, 2012 at 8:26 AM
Your power with words is so gentle, it makes me feel that all’s right with the world.
Thank you for being the writer, teacher and man that you are.
Mary Petrie Lowen
November 30th, 2012 at 5:23 PM
Thank you, CW, for gifting us with another beautiful, thought-provoking poem by Jack Grapes. Here, his search for a sentence wakens me from my own dream of a life, and emboldens me to move forward, one sentence at a time. Isn't that what great poetry does? Isn't that what great men do?
Sarah Mac Donald
November 30th, 2012 at 6:07 PM
I remember reading Sherwood Anderson in an American Lit class and I didn't remember that amazing sentence.
thx for delivering it along with a check. A perfect poem for a rainy day with my new pup.
Daisy Mc
November 30th, 2012 at 6:52 PM
Jack, looks like it's going to rain throughout the afternoon and I wish I had me a copy of that book, and of your book too!
Cynthia Cason
November 30th, 2012 at 7:22 PM
It's the effort.
Always.
and what do you mean that people hardly read Sherwood anymore? You are, I m, now. Thanks to you and yours.
Great to see this poem and know you think in sentences. Not paragraphs. Much to ponder here and certainly, no piddling.
Cyn
Karen Ross
November 30th, 2012 at 7:52 PM
Jack thank you once more for inspiring us to "move forward one sentence at a time". It's really all we can do, one word, one sentence, one poem. I just started looking through your new book, The Naked Eye, and find your early work's delightful and meaningful just as all your work is.
Evelyn D.
December 1st, 2012 at 7:21 AM
One sentence at a time. One breath at a time . . .
Thanks, Jack, for the awakening.
Alice
December 1st, 2012 at 4:17 PM
Thank you for this poem Jack. You're transforming how I think and feel about the exchange — the communion — between readers and writers.
@devilstrifecta
December 1st, 2012 at 4:25 PM
How wonderful Jack! I was so struck by how you can magically as always, take a line or verse or sometimes a word and extract an entire world from it, this verse which now has new life.. your words always and forever push me to places I would otherwise never know. The mystery that is Jack Grapes, inspired at least two generations in my own life and countless others… and countless more to follow. Thanks Jack! xo
aiana
December 1st, 2012 at 5:17 PM
I love this thought that reading the words wakes the writer from his slumber though he may be long gone … that it is the words that connect our spirits. Beautiful Jack! Thank you CW!
Maureen Grady
December 1st, 2012 at 5:36 PM
JACK-THANK YOU FOR THAT, A MATCH LIT IN A DARK ROOM.
MAUREEN
Suzanne
December 1st, 2012 at 5:50 PM
Thank you Jack Grapes for this poignant reminder to move my life forward one sentence at a time.
Madeline Sharples
December 1st, 2012 at 6:42 PM
Thank you, Jack, for this poem and your wonderful reading at Beyond Baroque.
KURT KAMM
December 1st, 2012 at 7:49 PM
jACK- YOU ARE WONDERFUL. WONDERFUL WITH WORDS, WONDERFUL IN YOUR SPIRIT. WHAT WOULD WE DO WITHOUT YOU??
Josh
December 1st, 2012 at 8:25 PM
Your work is always to me like meeting up with a great old friend in New York and remembering, damn, I like that guy. Thanks for the showing us all how it's done. JR
Jean Katz
December 1st, 2012 at 10:03 PM
Jack, you remind me again to look at the ordinary experiences of ordinary days, and find the extrordinary associations that connect me with my past, present, future, and with everyone I know and don't know. Thank you for a wonderful poem.
Patricia Scruggs
December 2nd, 2012 at 12:16 AM
"There was something poetic about Anderson's writing, something/ oddly quaint that I knew . . . , couldn't last."
Jack, you've put your finger on the feeling I had when I read "Winesburg, Ohio" a few years ago. Thank you for that, and for continuing on with this amazing poem.
Hal Bogotch
December 2nd, 2012 at 5:11 AM
Great addition to the grand conversation, Jack . . . now, would you please sign that check over to me? — H A L .
Toni-Ann
December 2nd, 2012 at 7:16 AM
what you do best …you make look so effortless…easy as Sunday Morning..a stroll down memory lane..in the end i always find a deep part of myself…Shine Bright Sweet Friend
Adesh Kaur
December 2nd, 2012 at 8:39 PM
jack, i love you and this poem is off the charts. and of course you would quote this line " …and when Life came in at the door of the house, that was the body.” whew! i get that and i betcha sherwood is awake and smiling right now. thank you, dearest poet.
camille sranger
December 3rd, 2012 at 1:13 AM
I know Jack grapes wakes me from the dream of my life with each and everyone of his poems
Wake up California this is our next poet laureate
Loy
December 3rd, 2012 at 5:00 AM
Jack is to Grapes as simply is to perfect.
Patricia
December 3rd, 2012 at 7:13 AM
Thank you Jack for being the door to so many things.
Vicky
December 3rd, 2012 at 9:45 AM
I read your work, Jack, and find myself unable to compose anything in response, because really, how can anything measure up?
Mia Sara
December 3rd, 2012 at 2:07 PM
Jack Grapes is the patron saint of writers, a Santa Claus for lucky poets who find themselves under tree.
Jan McGuire
December 3rd, 2012 at 2:56 PM
WOW!
The numbers, the words, the depth of the well, the account, the circle of life, the rain…your poetry moves me beyond words. Always.
Thank you, Jack Grapes, for wowing me again and again!
Frank James
December 3rd, 2012 at 6:19 PM
Jack Grapes is truly amazing!
I picture Jack somewhat of a blacksmith, but instead of using hammers & anvils to craft things, he uses nouns, verbs, commas & spaces to pound out fantastic poems…
I picture Jack with an apron on, ink smudges on his face, sweat dripping down his forehead as he turns to nod…and then continues on with his craft…
Debra Swihart
December 3rd, 2012 at 8:26 PM
The long forgotten word still lives in the hearts of poets and writers and readers who must touch paper to breathe one more day. I must hold a book in my hands to feel my life is full. Thanks for being a good steward of paper and words.
Shanna Reed
December 3rd, 2012 at 9:51 PM
Jack, every one of your poem lifts me up to a better place entirely. just beautiful. i think i'll take a walk.
genoveve
December 4th, 2012 at 5:16 AM
A $12 check accrued poetic treasure. Jack, imagine the lliterary dividends you could haved earned in 2057 if you had used my last $560 check as a bookmark. Contrary to your thinking, my e-balance says you did not stick it between the pages of a sleeping book. I would not mind trying to balance my checkbook for the next forty five years to preserve your M.O. Thank you for your zenness.
bara
December 4th, 2012 at 8:58 AM
Martini"s and toothpicks and pick up stick's,
and stick in the Virgo's Mud can not be fully comprehended by me or yea . Happy Holidays… You are the greatest poet in all this World; and I miss you! love. light, & laughter ,Bara
Marilyn Conrad
December 6th, 2012 at 12:04 AM
Thank you, Jack, for your words, your spirit, your heart. This is a beautiful poem and I thank you for the way you inspire me to want to write and, more important, to want to LIVE.
Tina
December 12th, 2012 at 5:08 AM
Thanks for sharing the poem. The ending about Jerry was brilliant.
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