Don’t know why

Hi everyone,

I don’t know why I thought of this poem. It’s not one of my best ones. The event happened 79 years ago, when I was a little boy living in Ajo, Arizona. I don’t usually write about such matters, but my editor for CONNECTING DOTS, WENDY MURRAY, wanted me to write about things close to the bone, incidents that meant something to me. This was one of them.

I’m 7. Darting among the large pillars that support the roof, my friend Rosemary and I make it down the long, covered walkway in front of the town's single block of stores. The bar sits at the far end.


Rumors pull kids
down the walk, 
to the place we’re not
supposed to go,
to the bar
where they say
a man got killed last night,

to see a stain
they say is there,
by the door 
where two guys fought.

We go to see,
but not too close.
The air smells damp,
The stain is dark like blood,
but could be dirt.

I wonder why
some men think 
they have to fight,
fall on a sidewalk
late at night.

Dirt or blood,
I've seen enough.
I want to go.

(c) 2003 David L. Harrison, all rights reserved


Hi everyone,

April is looking good. I only have one booking out of town, and it’s close by. All the others are in Springfield. I’ve found four dates during the month when I can join other local poets to give readings to celebrate National Poetry Month, the 3rd, 11th, 17th, and 25th. Additionally, I have a library program on the 19th and a breakfast talk to give in Marshfield on the 27th.

By April 1, I expect to have finished all work on the four books that are currently in various stages of completion. Other proposals and submissions are out there, but those are chickens too early to count. I need at least one to come in, though, to keep me happy.

I have a few other ideas I hope to develop but I have to say they may be lost causes before I write the first word. As I look over the books getting awards these days, I’m struck by how serious many of them are. I’m beginning to feel like Peter Pan in a world populated by Captain Hooks.