Tuesday, May 21, 2013

A Deep and Gorgeous Thirst by Hosho McCreesh

Hosho McCreesh’s A Deep And Gorgeous Thirst is a collection of poems filled with drunken days and nights that will have you laughing or crying into your own drink, or you’ll want to raise your longneck and clink it so hard against your friend’s that it would shatter to the floor. It has everything a good raucous batch of drunken poems should have: tales of tragedy, comedy, and inspiration. Pour yourself a glass of wine or grab yourself a beer and sit down and enjoy reading. I’m proud to provide a brief sample of this 254 paged collection. I’ll only share two poems since they are long ones, one to make you smile, one to make you hopeful:

Shoshone, Wyoming,
and you and your buddy
are propped up on
two tall barstools.
It's about 1 in the
afternoon at the
Pair-A-Dice bar,
and you still have a
long drive in
front of you.
“Whatcha got on tap?”
you ask, and the owner,
Neil, says they've got
Bud and Bud Light.
“I guess I'll do a Bud,”
you say, reluctant.
“And one for me,”
your buddy says.
And Neil pulls two,
and instantly the glasses
sheet over in an icy film.
“Wow,” you say, “just
how cold do you
keep that stuff?”
And Neil says “Cold as
a well-digger’s ass,”
and you run a
fingernail down the
frosted mug,
peeling the ice
like snake skin,
then take a
few huge gulps,
and it's half gone,
the coldest beer
you have ever had,
and Neil says,
“That’ll be $3,”
and your buddy
slaps down a ten.
“No,” says Neil,
“$3 for both.”
And you say,
“Hot damn,
I guess we
better have
two more,” and
Neil says,
“During Monday Night
Football beers are
And you
realize that there is
a time and a place for
every kind of drunk,
and you tell Neil so.
“So you’re really
a writer?” he says
and you say
“No…but maybe
“You should put me
in your book,” and
you promise him
you will, because
this, here, the
Pair-A-Dice Bar
in Shoshone, Wyoming,
is the perfect

I love that the poet does credit the barkeep as he says he will. If I’m ever in Shoshone, Wyoming, I’m going to go looking for this Pair-A-Dice Bar, too. On a long road trip, a cold refreshing drink is always in order whether it’s beer or something else. I can imagine this oasis in the middle of a long, long drive and it makes me want to take a road trip myself just to see if I can stumble upon such an establishment.

It’s dinner
with your field boss
and his family
a week or so after
La Vendange,
the youngest passing
much of the evening
drawing pirates, and
making pirate fighting noises,
and when his sweet kids are
off to bed, out comes a special
bottle of handmade marc,
“The last of it,” he says,
explaining that, years ago,
he made a small batch,
and this is his last bottle
and it's part cognac,
part brandy, and
part wine,
and your boss pours you
a measure and you feel
deeply honored, a
glorious nightcap, you think,
following a glorious meal,
and despite the language barrier,
you're both able to
understand each other,
and you respect and admire him,
and you laugh when his wife calls
the vineyard “his mistress,” and
you fall in love with her, and
his kids, and you imagine
living his life, a hard but
honest one, once again
marveling at
how much better
lives are lived here,
how even difficult field work
pays a livable wage,
and how the people are all
so much more than
whatever job they do,
they play instruments, and
know books, and music,
and painting, and sculpture,
and they do most things with
a quiet kind of art and grace,
and of course, they know
how to eat, and drink,
and celebrate, and
how to not worry
too much, and the
mindset is one of
collaboration, of
sharing both
what they have,
and what they are
with the world,
and with each other,
and you can't help but think
that America could
certainly do with
a little bit
of that

This poem makes me relish the lives of the family the poet has joined. How I wish for all the world to lead exactly this life and it creates a wistful feeling in the reader of hoping for a better working life, a better home life. I also wonder what country the poet is visiting? I imagine Italy or France with the mention of vineyards but you never know. What a wonderful world this would be if we could all share our lives together more creatively and honestly.

This collection, A Deep and Gorgeous Thirst by Hosho McCreesh will be published and available for purchase this Summer so keep track of the time by visiting:

Thanks always for reading, please drop in again next week…

1 comment:

Luke Armstrong said...

I'm on a bus right now going through bucolic upstate NYC, and these were two great poems to accompany the ride. Thanks!