Parachutes

Today's issue of The Writer's Almanac, Garrison Keillor's daily review of poetry, includes a nice poem by William Stafford. Since today is also Mr. Stafford's birthday, Garrison reflects on his life and work, and concludes with this:

"About his own works, Stafford once commented, "I have woven a parachute out of everything broken.""

I wish I had thought of that. Seems like there's a lot of broken stuff in and around my life. Maybe one way to look at it is Stafford's way: If we can salvage the flotsam and jetsam of our lives, and somehow put it back together, we can make parachutes. Otherwise, as time goes by, broken things start to pile up all around us. It starts with a Camaro out back, then it's the dishwasher, somebody breaks a window in our basement, then it's a relationship, next it's our pancreas, and then the foundation of our house - and before we know it, it looks like "Everything is Broken":

Broken lines, broken strings,
Broken threads, broken springs,
Broken idols, broken heads,
People sleeping in broken beds.
Ain't no use jiving
Ain't no use joking
Everything is broken.

Broken bottles, broken plates,
Broken switches, broken gates,
Broken dishes, broken parts,
Streets are filled with broken hearts.
Broken words never meant to be spoken,
Everything is broken.

Seem like every time you stop and turn around
Something else just hit the ground

Broken cutters, broken saws,
Broken buckles, broken laws,
Broken bodies, broken bones,
Broken voices on broken phones.
Take a deep breath, feel like you're chokin',
Everything is broken.

Every time you leave and go off someplace
Things fall to pieces in my face

Broken hands on broken ploughs,
Broken treaties, broken vows,
Broken pipes, broken tools,
People bending broken rules.
Hound dog howling, bull frog croaking,
Everything is broken.

(Copyright © 1989 Special Rider Music - Bob Dylan)


My pal M. keeps saying that she gives thanks for all the broken stuff in her life - all the hardships, all the disappointments, all the crap. I guess what she's saying is that when the time comes, she's going to have the coolest parachute...

(P.S. You can visit The Writer's Almanac by clicking on the links on this page. Stafford's entry is from the Wednesday, January 17th edition)