Berkeley, CA
jwellspo
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
Copyright 2015 Judy Wells Poet. All rights reserved.
Website designed by Jannie M. Dresser.
Berkeley, CA
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