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As a Hillsborough Child I Never could Find

Lived before 1929 and written c.1961 by Barbara Gordon Paine

As a Hillsborough child I never could find
The pierced arrow of our car
The wings of hollied hawks
The sigh-presses of trees
The feet of stepping stones
The spools of winding walks;

Nor did I hear the crash
of twenty-nine walled streets
that fell with a force
that moved us;
but, if we had stayed,
I never would have found
any Hillsburros, or
any big Manshunned houses either.

EDITOR'S NOTES

Hillsborough, south of San Francisco, is one of the richest towns in America--nothing but mansions.

This is from Eidolon, 1962, by Barbara Gordon Paine. She knew and was influenced by such poets as Karl Shapiro and Kenneth Patchen (her shape-poem protesting the letter Q is comically Patchenesque). Her poems are dreamlike, exploring child-mind and child-perceptions, like "Going Back To", but only one, Time with a Nighthead, is an explicit dream.

--Chris Wayan


LISTS AND LINKS: home, money & class - class - oops! - puns and mondegreens (interesting mishearings) - Wayan cartoons a misheard Christmas carol: God Dressed Ye, Mare - poetry

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