Gus has a shelf in his study
filled with found objects.
They glow in the south
window,
they resonate in memory.
Gus has a grandson named
Jack Augustus.
He twirls a phrase like other
children swing
tin pails at the beach.
Jack says
bop de bop de bop de bop.
This beat is coded in his
genes.
Loquat, loquat.
How many varieties can there
be
of fruit from this one loquat
tree?
Marshal Will Kane turns back
from retirement
each semester. Gus asks his
students
Can you hear it? Do you GET
it?
ThereÕs courage in this art,
no art without courage.
ItÕs always nearly noon,
ask Wen Ho Lee.
Loquat, loquat.
Bop de bop de bop de bop.
A friend from Socorro days
asks me
are you related to Gus
by marriage?
LetÕs skip a survey of the
intervening decades
and turn to objects that glow
in memory.
Gus taught a class there.
Are you related to Gus by
learning?
Loquat, loquat.
Bob de bop de bop de bop.
How many varieties can there
be
of fruit from this one loquat
tree?
Translate loquat from
Mandarin: Rush Orange.
Pronounce its taxonomic name:
Eriobotrya japonica.
Follow it hanging in the
western sky,
round burnt orange disk.
Follow it to the first tree
rooted in oriental earth,
rooted in AdamÕs memory.
Seeds from this one tree blew
across oceans,
flowered in strange, distant
worlds.
Can you hear the rhythm that
carried these seeds?
Do you GET it?
Loquat, loquat.
Bop de bop de bop de bop
16 Sept 2000
Mark Ivey
*written for GusÕ sixty-fifth
birthday