Today I visited Resource Depot, a place for artists that are three-dimensionally inclined and people like me, who make treasure of old junk. However, from stacks of home editions of medical encyclopedias and Scandinavian travel guides, I found a surprising jewel. To be honest, I grabbed it merely for its name: Reflections on a Gift of Watermelon Pickle. I did shriek when I read the spine and waved it above my head in exultation. A second shriek escaped when I read further ...and other modern verse. Oh, thank you, Universe!
It turns out this ridiculous collection from the mid 1960s is a treasure chest. In the past hour I have scanned it through, smiling and smirking and experiencing the sort of catharsis only modern verse can induce.
I didn't notice at first but the compilation sneaks big names like Ezra Pound, Langston Hughes, and William Carlos Williams. However, their presence does not dominate, and I think the joy of these pages is their sundry nature. Here is one poem about trains (which I love), by Philip Booth:
http://www.poemhunter.com/best-poems/philip-booth/crossing/
