Ode to Rocks Revisited

Ode To Rocks Revisited

"O my son! surely if it is the very weight of the grain of a mustard-seed, even though it is in (the heart of) rock, or (high above) in the heaven or (deep down) in the earth, Allah will bring it (to light); surely Allah is Knower of subtleties, Aware" -From the chapter in the Quran called Luqman. Luqman is commonly known in the West as Aesop of Aesop's Fables.

In pockets and gardens, under

our beds for miners carry

a fair share in long gray

pails with jugs of soup

near shanks and flesh

with crusts plus those

stored in the chests.

The spare parts of the world

cast about pose a craving

as deep as the ocean is long

as the rivers are wide. A record

of perennial harvests hauled

up from stopes through gob-shite

on ladders of iron out the Judeah

the William Jennings Bryan, Red Jacket,

Cole and Campbell

the Eagle Eye, Nagasaki to the north

Beloved fountains of slag

pour into banks of remains

where genuflection pays

paper for gold and time with loss.

Poor men fair well in shifts,

forever on the way down or out

with dirt clinging, dirt in love

with the heroic skin, part

ancient shroud part, let me in.

Here's one from someone else:

Sully's Bucket

I've a thing or two to tell ya pard that I think you ought to know,

About that rusty bucket Sully carries down below.

You're not the first one, stranger, who laughed at Sully's pail.

You're the only one who's laughing now, the rest have heard the tale.

When we were young and handsome, had some ten years in the game,

Old Sull he had a partner, and Jim Riley was his name....

The four of us together, we were working side by side.

That's how come I chanced to be there on the night Jim Riley died.

Well the blasting had been easy, it was running out like sand.

An we were mucking out the ore; those days we mucked by hand.

And we were nearly finished, and I hadn't heard a sound.

But something must have happened, "Cause Jim Riley yelled "bad ground."

When we headed for the timberin', Sully must of took a spill

‘Cause when we looked back in there he was pinned beneath his drill.

The ceiling it was groanin' now, all set to drop its lid.

And Sully pinned beneath his drill was sobbin' like a kid.

Now there's men can watch their partners die, not throw their lives away.

But Riley wasn't one of them, he wasn't built that way.

As soon's he seen what happened, "Hey, hold on there Sull," he cried.

And before he had the words out, he'd thrown the drill aside.

Well, they headed ‘round the ore car, Riley wearing a big grin.

Guess he never knew what happened when the hanging wall came in.

Sully reached the timberin', his face as white as chalk.

And Riley, four yards back of him, caught fifteen ton of rock.

That day Sully's pail was buried, he ate from Riley's pail in tears.

And he's carried that same bucket now for almost twenty years.

So you can laugh at Sully, because he's mean and drinks a lot.

But don't laugh at Sully's bucket, it's the only friend he's got.

-Anon, Bisbee Arizona, From the Mining Museum Archives