Monday, January 21, 2013

Paragraphs into Poems: "The Witch of Pine Barrens" and "The Pickers"


The Witch of Pine Barrens
(version one)

The Pine Barrens once
had their own particular
witch. Pineys put salt
over their doors to
discourage visits from
the Witch of the Pines,
Peggy Clevenger.

It was known that
she could turn herself
into a rabbit, for a dog
was once seen chasing a
rabbit and the rabbit
jumped through the
window of a house, and
there—in the same instant,
in the window—
stood Peggy Clevenger.

On another occasion, a
man saw a lizard and
tried to kill it by crushing it
with a large rock. When the rock
hit the lizard, the lizard
disappeared and Peggy
Clevenger materialized on
the spot and smacked
the man in the face.

Clevenger is a Hessian name.
Peggy lived in Pasadena,
another of the now vanished
towns, about five miles east of
Mt. Misery. It was said
that she had a stocking
full of gold. Her remains
were found one morning in
the smoking ruins of
her cabin, but there was no
trace of the gold.

The Witch of Pine Barrens
(version two)

It was said
that she had a stocking
full of gold— Peggy
Clevenger, their
own particular witch.

Over their doors, they
put salt to discourage
her visits.

A dog once chased
a rabbit and the rabbit
jumped through the window
of a house.
And there Peggy stood, in
the same instant, in
the window.

It was known
that she could turn herself
into a rabbit.

A man saw a lizard and
tried to kill it, crushing
it with a large rock. When
rock hit lizard the
lizard disappeared

And Peggy materialized
and smacked the man
in the face.

One morning her
remains were found
in the smoking ruins of
her cabin—there
was no trace of the
gold.


The Pickers
 (version one)

We had come to a clearing where thousands
of blueberry bushes grew. In the center of it was
the packing house—a small, low building with open
and screenless windows on all sides. In front of it
was a school bus marked “Farm Labor Transport.”

The driver stood beside his bus. He was a tall and
amiable-looking man, with bare feet. He wore
green trousers and a T-shirt. The end of the
working day had come. Pickers were
swarming around a pump—old women, middle-aged
men, a young girl. A line was waiting to use
and outhouse near the pump.

Inside the packing house, berries half an inch
thick were rolling up a portable conveyor belt
and, eventually, into pint boxes.
Charlie’s sister was packing the boxes.
Charlie’s daughter-in-law was putting cellophane over them.
And Charlie’s son Jim was supervising the operation.

Charlie picked up a pint box in which berries were
mounded high, and he told me with disgust that
some supermarket chains knock off these mounds
of extra berries and put them in new boxes, getting
three of four extra pints per twelve-box tray.

At one window, pickers were turning in tickets
of various colors, and they were given cash in
return. One picker, who appeared to be at least
in his sixties, tapped Charlie on the arm and showed
him a thick pack of tickets held together with a rubber band.

“I found these,” the man said. “They must
have fallen out of your son’s pocket.” He gave
the packet to Charlie, who thanked him and
counted the tickets. Charlie said, “These tickets
are worth seventy-five dollars.”


Getting Tickets
(version two)

The packing house—a small, low building with
open and screenless windows on
all sides stood in a clearing where
thousands of blueberry bushed grew. In front was
a school bus marked “Farm Labor Transport.”
The driver stood beside his bus and pickers
were swarming around a pump and
the end of the working day had come.

Inside the packing house, half-an-inch-thick
berries were rolling up a conveyor belt and into
pint boxes, and Charlie’s sister was packing the
boxes, and Charlie’s daughter-in-law was putting
cellophane over them, and Charlie’s son was
supervising the operation.

Picking up a pint box, berries mounded on
top, Charlie told me that some supermarket chains
knock off the mounds on top and put them in
new boxes and get three or four extra pints, and
Charlie told that me with disgust.

And one picker at least in his sixties tapped
Charlie on the arm and showed him a thick
packet of tickets held together with a
rubber band and the man said,
“I found these.
They must have fallen out of your son’s pocket,”
and he gave the packet to Charlie, and
Charlie thanked him and counted the tickets.

At one window, pickers were turning in tickets of
various colors, and they were given cash in return.
“These tickets are worth seventy-five dollars,”
Charlie said. Outside, a line was waiting to
use an outhouse near the pump.

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