[to L. Frank Baum forever, in his emerald eternities]
the patch-worked darlings of his quilting mind
lumber through an Eden with emerald towers
(you know the kind)
shooting sparks off in any emerald evening
right in the midst of troubles.
when did he find (I tend to wonder) the
denizens of a china country, porcelain
dreaming they won't break or did they ask
him, what is "breaking"?, laughing
delicately...in my mother's Esperanto.
we'll wake to find your
pumpkin-headed heroes
compass princesses
time after happy time.
not only true blue aproned Dorothy
and her entourage.
it's far from a yard with chickens
we'll all have to wander one day or other
opined Auntie Em-
the weathervanes spinning in the gales
shooting off sepia sparks in all that dust.
here's to sparkling later on
in a farther country,
odds are...since we must.
sunflowered, cornstalk stalked
terrible at raising chickens.
we're sure to find you there
down some fresh gold bricked road
still at it when we'll try to say oh,
thank you for finding Oz.
mary angela douglas 3 october 2013
Note on the Poem: This poem was precipitated by finding the lovely title of Even I. Schwartz' biography of Baum: Finding Oz: How L. Frank Baum Discovered the Great American Story so that the concept of Baum's "finding Oz", a breathtaking concept indeed belongs to Mr. Evan I. Scwartz and concludes the last line of my poem on Mr. Baum.
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