Vox Populi
A curated webspace for Poetry, Politics, and Nature with over 6,000,000 visitors since 2014 and over 9,000 archived posts.
Sean Sexton: Meditation Upon Dutch Boy General Purpose Paste Flux
See the plastic screw-capped container of
Dutch Boy General Purpose Paste Flux, left
by the man summoned to tear out a wall
of our bathroom closet, replace and solder
pipes buried deep inside, now exposed
after twenty-five years.
Though he is old, the Dutch Boy’s face
is younger than the face of our youngest
child, gone from this house; his room down
the hall, empty but for a few childhood
effects, bed once unkempt now tidy and
made, only slept in by infrequent guests.
And I’ve never heard of the Dutch Boy
or his paste flux, though he spans more than
twice my years, and I realize, as on my first
trip to Chicago, how little known this world
has been to me, how long mankind has
carried on in conventions of artifice
and pleasure, industry and depravity, whose
remainders stand in unsolvable riddles of
time. Only these and occasioned stories
bear a former age, offer the battered,
enduring face of a world that will still be
here when we’re gone.
~~~
Sean Sexton was born and raised on his family’s Treasure Hammock Ranch and divides his time between writing, painting, and managing a 700-acre cow-calf and seed stock operation. His books include Portals: Poems (Press 53).
Copyright 2019 Sean Sexton. From May Darkness Restore, Poems. Press 53, 2019
Discover more from Vox Populi
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
What a good poem, dear Sean — how well that poem sheds light on what are certainly so many mysterious objects left behind walls for decades– then suddenly there again because a wall is demolished, or a floor renewed! You have such a touching leap to your son’s room — they too a witness of much busy-ness, then suddenly so, so quiet… All those ‘things’, indeed, that will remain when we’re long gone, there, in walls, & floors, & under roofs. (Being from Belgium I had never heard of that Little Dutch Boy, from my neighboring country: I lived 45 minutes away from Holland. So I Googled it — and there he was, on little golden tins!)
LikeLike
cool. tell mike to do mine. you are getting way ahead. rc
LikeLike
HA! Do your what, Rick?
LikeLike
Wonderful turn from a nostalgic surprise to a wise disquisition on time, with a note of optimism I’ll hold onto this morning too full of the news.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes.
>
LikeLike
disquisition! I love that word Marty! I am most grateful to have it now in my care! i ‘ll find a place to keep it safe.
LikeLike
Good Poem there, Sean! Hooray for you. Does anyone remember Dutch Cleanser? Or Fels Naptha soap, or Noxon to polish metal?
And Bob & Ray (still on utube and still funny!
Alice
LikeLiked by 1 person
Bob and Ray!
>
LikeLike
To move from paste flux to a meditation on time and time’s riddles so naturally and convincingly is a real triumph, Sean.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thankyou all!
Its such a pleasure to be here!
LikeLiked by 2 people
I can see the Dutch Boy from some distant memory. I love how poetry can bring out comfort when we need respite from depravity. Thank you.
LikeLiked by 3 people
What a marvelous poem, a beautiful reflection on what changes and what endures, those things that “stand in the unsolvable riddles of/time.”
LikeLiked by 3 people
Strange. I do remember the Dutch Boy logo from somewhere in my childhood; probably from their paint cans. Logos and industries have changed over millennium but people and civilizations not so much, as is evidenced by our “occasioned stories” and tales we carry with us.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Perfectly said, Leo. Thank you.
>
LikeLiked by 1 person
And the poem also reminds me of Dutch Masters Cigars. I had a cigar box with all those old “masters” staring at me in their black hats. A quick google search shows they still sell them. Dutch Boy paints too. Did the Dutch boy turn into a Dutch master? Another occasioned story for someone to tell.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Dutch Boy paste is unfamiliar to me, too, but I once found five empty cans of Schlitz in a wall we opened for construction. Industry and pleasure, I think.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I hope you didn’t drink the Schlitz, Robert. There was a time in my life when I would have!
>
LikeLiked by 2 people
I managed to avoid the beer. Could you imagine the taste after 35 years? Eek!
LikeLiked by 1 person
You guys! If not for you…
LikeLiked by 2 people
I love Sean Sexton’s poems. The wild imagination is rooted in the land and life of the speaker.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Perhaps the best poems contain flux and paste. Some poems also contain pleasure, are built with the writer’s industry, and more rarely, depravity. And as most poets hope of their own: will be here when we’re gone. Left for the fortunate finder to squeeze out of the tube.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Perfect, Jim. I so admire and appreciate your comments here. If I am the anchor of the VP community, you are the sail.
>
LikeLiked by 2 people
Michael, your ship contains multitudes of masts.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I love your comments that add another dimension to Michael’s wonderful posts
LikeLiked by 1 person