Junior Explorer The Age of Exploration began in the second term of the Eisenhower Administration when our dentist discovered Tahiti, the Millers went on safari, and I circled the globe spinning under my finger at the Warder Park Public Library. I studied the world as best I could in a middling midwestern town by curating a collection of objects lovely but odd: a stuffed parrot from a secondhand shop, sparkly stones from Saint Raphael’s lot, snowdomes and stamps from exotic spots, agates and cats eyes from a five and dime, acorns and buckeyes from Roosevelt Drive, cicada shells and butterfly wings and lots of other odd-lovely things. National Geographic soon sent me south to the hot zones (Sumatra, Sumba, Gabon) to survey states of indigenous undress and map the contours of the opposite sex. Like Cortez, I pillaged and stole, clipped gold doubloons from the Caribbean, Elgin Marbles from the British Museum, hammered gold from the Taj Mahal, hung all my loot on my bedroom wall. Oh, it was a large and wondrous room where I nested, dreamed and became the insufferable stuffed bird that I am. Daniel Coyle Daniel Coyle recently retired from a career as a harmless drudge in the information industry. He lives in Washington DC. His poems have appeared in the Wallace Stevens Journal, Arkansas Review, Fortnightly Review, Blue Unicorn.
1 Comment
7/2/2023 04:26:54 am
Thanks for the delightful poem, Daniel. You captured the playful mood of Cornell's box and took me back to childhood summers. It sounds like we more or less traded home regions in adulthood. This is not the first time you've caught my attention, but now that my computer won't allow me to hit "like" on TER, I'm more likely to leave a comment.
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