Emerson captures heat, decay, sadness along U.S. 1

In "Elegy in July for the Motel Astra," by Pulitzer winner Claudia Emerson, a poet with ties to Greensboro, we felt summer heat "shimmering/above fresh blacktop," could almost small overripe cantaloupe, and most of all felt the sadness of abandoned dreams.

Below is a link to a useful website called Biscayne Bay Review. I have shown the page for Emerson, which contains lots of information, more poems, and, if you'll scroll down a bit,  an excellent short article called "Claudia Emerson, An Appreciation" by Susan Settlemyre Williams.

http://gilbert-wesley-purdy.blogspot.com/2006/04/claudia-emerson-page.html

For an excellent longer article on Emerson, check:

http://www.blackbird.vcu.edu/v8n1/features/marshall_r/platform_page.shtml

Emerson finds in the flea market a metaphor and "testimonial to human loss." She also writes of it in "At the Route 1 Flea Market." It is a metaphor that I have also found meaningful:

“At the Flea Market”

Dented cans, lettuce edges brown:

Cavernous room, dim light.

Built to be—what?—a warehouse,

Architect’s sad default.

The coarse jest of tee-shirts,

Suspicious wrist watches,

Prehistoric computers,

Damp blue air thick with

Cigarette smoke, ripe cantaloupe,

Hope and despair.

The vendors’ faces shadowed, blank:

“I can do better on that.”  (RHD)

We conclude this week with pieces by Barbara Ras and Jennifer Barber,  which, like all good poems, are about several different things at once.