Hemingway

Here's a poem that originally appeared a few years ago in Bellowing Ark, a print journal that went out of business. Hope you enjoy.

Hemingway

I know it’s not popular

or even politically correct

to (still) like him

but  when my father’s great ambitions

were to have enough time on saturdays

to mow the lawn

and watch college football

Hemingway gave me men

who left conservative America

for adventure

because of course it couldn’t be found there

and causes they actually believed in

fighting the ultimate father figures

trying to protect countries and people

they went alone

were comfortable with that

didn’t talk a lot

though spoke fluent italian spanish and french

and always met beautiful interesting women

trying to do what was right

even if it was also for themselves

but that was possible

and if they came back wounded

disillusioned

or not at all

that seemed to be a given

even to them

and things were things

a big fish was a big fish

Kilimanjaro was Kilimanjaro

the hills in Spain were not like white elephants

what was important

was what was felt under the surface

and unlike my father

he trusted me

to be intelligent enough

to figure that out myself

and if ultimately it wasn’t all real

(and I didn’t care for the great white hunter phase)

enough of it was

and if Hemingway had his weaknesses

and if maybe he gave up without a fight

(though if you knew your mind was going

what would you do?)

he had a good run

and was maybe no more worse

and much more interesting