Poems by Deryck Holt
As I walk down Mitchell street
This alley of sprinklers and barbeques and Kool-Aid
A new world is opened up to me
a secret layer of reality. I pass a cracker-box with an address
the connellys, whose run down castles coming apart
at the seams, but the love of a family is keeping it together, like
white school paste.
The grass is patchy, jaundiced skin
but there are hearts carved into the tree.
Across the street
A distance of a few feet and a thousand miles
are the suburban royalty of Mitchell street.
Barco-lounger thrones and a
ride-on mower chariot.
They rule from a gleaming ivory tower of stucco
and imported exotic flowers
Jill and Ted Rite
Who always organize the yard sales
the cake walks
who are the most envied couple on the block
who sleep in separate beds.
I kick a worn soccer ball back to the Howard twins; Geoff and
Kyle who walks with a limp
from falling down his father's drunken
Geoff's sparkling brown eye is swollen shut.
"Walked into a door" has become his mantra.
Kirk Fitzpatrick, the stereotypical Irish
whose bright Irish smile never touches
his blue Irish eyes
drives by me and waves.
he turns into his empty house
and lays on his empty bed
and mourns his empty arms
wishing for the embrace of his wife.
She left him years ago for another man.
His name was death.
She died, and dies again with each
of Kyle's tears.
I reach the end of my journey
past infinite sidewalk cracks
and children's chalk hieroglyphs.
An avenue of
Play-doh and love and fear and puppies and linoleum,
and I revel in my street,
my Mitchell Street.
Biographical sketch: I am an 18 year old college student from
I enjoy skateboarding and acting like a twelve year old.
Deryck Holt recommends:
lyric book for the Radiohead album Ok Computer by Thom Yorke
Reason: Thom's a beautiful lyricist, his songs showed me
how language can be beautiful.
Recommendations for writers:
Don't think about what will sound good, or if the poem is aesthetically
If it is true to what you are trying to say, then it will be beautiful