I Have Berkeley (1979) was Judy Wells' first published book. Its publication was inspired by Joe Speer, 1948-2011, an Albuquerque storyteller and poet, who not only encouraged her to publish her poems but showed her how to do it! Speer later performed as "Beatlick Joe Speer" with Pamela Hirst in Nashville, Tennessee, in New Mexico, and throughout the U.S.

Photo by Andrew Williams.

THE QUINTESSENTIAL DRIFTER

“Judy,” she said

“That guy

is the quintessential drifter.

He even looks like one.”

“Jane,” I said

“You’re right

You’re bright

I should have you screen

all my bed mates.”

I look at him

once again

in my memory eye

after we’re out

of the bar

His scruffy beard

His tall body

ill at ease

in a sweater

knitted for a northern clime

His little airline bag

over his shoulder

like the French

flying through town

but he

The Québécois

“fils de fermier”

will stay a month or two

pick tomatoes

in Sacramento

and a few

in Berkeley

Tousle through as

many beds

as he can find

sandwiches

to go with

Spouting socialism

and strange stories

of sexual crisis

in Mexico

Bending his tall

lanky body

to kiss

chance encountered

lovers cast aside

after the single

fuck

that sends

the quintessential drifter

with his airline bag

flying

Copyright 2015 Judy Wells

 

I Have Berkeley

1979

Out of Print, Collector's Item.

Hawkeye Press

Albuquerque, New Mexico

64 pages, 5.5" x 8.5"

Paper, stapled chapbook.

Cover by Beth Rambo;

Back cover photo of Judy Wells by Andrew Williams, copyright by Andrew Williams 1980. 

“THE Ph.D. IS THE KISS OF

DEATH FOR A WOMAN”

         (so when I say Kiss of Death, think Ph.D.) 

                                   i

The Kiss of Death is a dangerous thing.

It’s deadly, that’s why.

And why is it deadly?

When you receive it

You think you are getting life,

Restoration, renewal, promise, hope,

A new identity, money, fame,

Fortune, a job, a baby,

A diamond ring, a new car,

A new dishwasher, dishes,

In short, all your wishes.

That’s why the Kiss of Death

Is deadly.

The Kiss of Death comes from

A Prince

Be he the prince of the university

The prince of your dreams

Or your mother’s dreams

Or your brother’s dreams.

First you get a small installment

A peck, lightly on your blushing cheek.

Then you get a kiss on your lips

A chaste one, no teeth, no tongue

Then you get a more sensual one

All syrupy and nice and like the

Ones you see on movie screens

Then you get a genuine passionate one

One that turns you on and on and on

One you can’t resist because

It makes your body curve

And bend and yield

To the one who delivers

Such a kiss.

The Kiss of Death is deadly

Because you bend and bend

And bend still more

Until the life you seek

From its source

Is no longer in you.

You have no prince,

No dreams, no life,

But you’ve had your kiss.

                                      ii

 Yes, I keeled right over

After I got my Ph.D.

Walked up the aisle

With my Ph.D. hood on and all

And there was Georgette

Bestowing Ph.D. Kisses and diplomas

On all her fledglings.

Well, I got up real close to her

Noticed how nice she looked in her

Pink polyester pants suit and

Newly dyed cute blond haircut

And she looked at me

Kind of deadly like

I mean real mean

Like I should have worn

A dress or something

And nylons and high heels

And perfume and a circle pin.

And I should have put my hair up

In pink rollers last night

And put on make-up this morning

And at least tweezed my eyebrows

To make a more poetic arch.

Well, I didn’t do all these things

But only wrote 200 pages

To get that dissertation done.

But maybe she’s right.

Maybe I should

Have learned to walk more

Graciously, talk more graciously,

Bat my eyes better, etcetera.

After all, isn’t that what it’s

All about

Dressing up and looking pretty

So I can get my Kiss of Death?

Her mouth opened like a cavern.

Well, I can tell you from

Getting up real close

That woman doesn’t take care

Of her teeth or breath.

A black wind came up from

Her stomach and as she

Bent those pink Revlon lips to

My cheek

I keeled right over, right over

With my diploma in my hand.

Ten years, ten years of work

All to have The Berkeley Gazette

Announce Sunday morning:

“Ill Dressed Woman Dies on Podium

Getting her Ph.D.”

2015 Copyright by Judy Wells



June 1977 

THE INNER TUBE

I was sitting

in the inner tube

floating, drifting

The water was

green brown

I wore a

white cap

Judy does not swim

She is the only one

of the girls

who does not swim

She likes to sail

Her legs and arms

curl over the warm rubber

She is in her

easy chair

Her arms and legs

slip from the surface

of the tube

She falls through

its center

I am under water

I am drifting

I am a little girl

in my white cap

I feel at ease here

The water is green brown

I am at ease here

He came then

Great splashes of water

and stamping of feet

My father plucked me

from the green brown water

and carried me to the shore

“Damn those lifeguards”

he muttered beneath his breath

I am drifting

I am floating

I cannot save him

The nurses in their white caps

turn their backs

I do not have my white cap

I cannot save him

They are feeding him with tubes

He is slipping through the tube

The water is green brown

Let him go.

Let him drift.

Let him die.

Copyright 2015 Judy Wells