Gerald Olson
Synopsis of Songs . . .
Songs, etc. is based on Olson’s first trip to Montenegro to see his spouse, Jean’s family. Impressions contains, “Kindly Close Tightly,” words written on the refrigerator door at Mepkin Abbey where, “I looked off into the distance where . . . monks sat masticating.” The Head and the Heart’s number one poem is, “Clog Dancing in Hell” and you are dared by Jean to get into the last verse. “I Never Said Thanks to my Stepdad” says volumes about “maple breath.” Curious? Alas, No Yorick He! came into being as a result of going to my father, Ernest’s grave. Cycling Through was influenced by bicycling tours. “Pretending to be a Stick” came from bird watching on the wetlands. Spectrum of the Sea starts out with “HANG DOWN” which rimes. It has been said that, “If it doesn’t rime, it’s not poetry.” Also, Jean Translated: “boy” and “bird sickness” by Igor Vecerina. PAPA’S TREKS is filled with “short shorts.”See, “Authenticity.” There’s a lot about bicycling in Self-Portrait, too. “For Jean, A New Albion” was written in Bolinas on Drake’s Bay. “Smokin’ Stogies for Irma” is a touching story of the author’s select memories of his mother. It’s recommended. One of the poems in Tiger Tales is, “Rush! Die!” which is about The Satanic Verses and “Summer Vacation” reflects the first and last time Gerald ever saw his father. “1-800-I’m Alone” in Polar Bear 46, is unique. The lead poem in Duck Eggs is “Halloween Betrayal.” Rotten duck’s eggs and dirty ticks are featured. See “Apparition Haunted Landscapes” in Behemoth’s Breath for solid surrealism. “Choppers Chop Chop” above LA riots in Dragon Fire where Olson was an eye witness as he was at Berkeley when general “Nurre Lost His Star.”
Olson and his wife, Jean who translates poetry plus other works from Serbian and Croatian, live in Huntington Beach, California. He retired from public education in 1993 at the Los Angeles County Office of Education where as an educational consultant he had the opportunity to write, edit and publish articles, journals and papers pertaining to counseling, career guidance and educational program evaluation. After retirement Olson honed his skills as a writer and poet in Jack Grapes’ Los Angeles Poets and Writers Collective workshops.
Alas, No Yorick He!
Hank went back in time for a moment, pal.
He read from the printed page, “Will Spud find
true happiness with Sondra
Stonegrass, or will Amy Vladik grab his
hairs short, makin’ him bleat, billy goat like,
pissin’ on his whiskers?”
Hank called Margaret to exhume Red’s
remains from the cold grounds of Rockford, IL.
Her answer device said,
“Departed from here, next stop Heaven’s Gate.”
Damn, Hank’ll hafta handle the shovel
& pull up Red’s box.
Dem bones, black as a mud puppy,
got to be cleansed, to look like pearls, soft
in the moonlight.
Red’s carcass smelt so. Puh! No Yorick he:
‘cause, there hung the lips Hank never kissed.
Our grief, it asks for light.
Cycling Through
Day. Canal. Boat. Rain.
Wind is blowing from the south.
I’ll live for twenty-five more years.
Winter is winter. That doesn’t change.
I’ll cycle through and all. There’s no end.
Everything will be repeated as before.
Cold water flows to the Pacific.
Day. Canal. Boat. Rain.
Authenticity
I can’t be betrayed.
I have no people.
I don’t want to float in the bay.
I’m surprised that someone is
all that interested in me.
I never met anyone real.
Transubstantiation
A book as wafer,
This is my mind.
This is my imagination.
Take a look.
It’s a remembrance of life.
