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Mission Tire Factory, 1969

Rating: 3.4

All through lunch Peter pinched at his crotch,
And Jesús talked about his tattoos,
And I let the flies crawl my arm, undisturbed,
Thinking it was wrong, a buck sixty five,
The wash of rubber in our lungs,
The oven we would enter, squinting
---because earlier in the day Manny fell
From his machine, and when we carried him
To the workshed (blood from
Under his shirt, in his pants)

All he could manage, in an ignorance
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Lee Mack 22 December 2009

the real poetry is conscience transcending what we make of moments -of events that it seems to us as real as it gets -we take them with us because we need them to be real -then conscience everlasting gets into a poem where the real thing is... you put it there in this poem my brother

19 37 Reply
Lee Mack 22 December 2009

the real poetry is conscience transcending what we make of moments -of events that it seems to us as real as it gets -we take them with us because we need them to be real -then conscience everlasting gets into a poem where the real thing is... you put it there in this poem my brother

15 38 Reply
James Mcfetridge 08 November 2009

Gary Soto takes us into the dark & dangerous world of work from his youth. The gritty, bleak mood & tone reminds me of John Steinbeck's 'In Dubious Battle'

15 39 Reply
Richard Cock III 26 June 2006

really dug this one.

24 30 Reply
Lee Mack 16 March 2018

you have problems

0 0 Reply