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But dusty roadware, glassy gadgets waiting--
three sign-bound piggies bearing olives
at the border of Seville serve up forgetfulness
of killer tusks and bristly hides;
[*used in an early poem, “Beyond the Clearing”, p.331*]
three desk-borne, tiny monkeys
joined for paperweight, in blotter,
are all we dare of King Kong raging in his pain;
[*road signs in Span and elsewhere*]
and everywhere the dragon selling gasoline,
his black and yellow tongue bereft of sting
(Oh, Toro, Toro
who shrank you down
and drank your blood?).
[*Reference to my abhorrence of viragoes who are also like Dame Van Winkle.*]
Was it lovely Eve, the bullring lady at home the shrew,
who hid her widowed eyes when knives dug at your hearth?
Was it the pinch-faced Leather Duke
who fled the gang fight, left his befriender bleeding,
and ghoulish grew to curse the backs of strangers?
[*See autobiog “A Force in the Field” for this bothersome confrontation with fascist law and courts in Spain of the early 1970’s.*]
Was it the Algeciras judge who held his cigarette like a torch
and stumble-followed it from room to room
holding his court? More likely, then, his tribe of tribers?
those gunhipped, grim-beaked motorcyclists
prick-eared and powered by hornhats aping El Toro?
Or was it the ones who snipped his mighty tail
or lopped his signal ears
or beat the horses to drag his body across the sand?
[Oh, Toro, Toro](https://cuny.manifoldapp.org/system/resource/4/5/7/457a0bf0-c34a-4b01-9947-25acf5c60efe/attachment/17573d9ac26b0cfaa27cac1e8a78331f.jpg)
![190
But dusty roadware, glassy gadgets waiting--
three sign-bound piggies bearing olives
at the border of Seville serve up forgetfulness
of killer tusks and bristly hides;
[*used in an early poem, “Beyond the Clearing”, p.331*]
three desk-borne, tiny monkeys
joined for paperweight, in blotter,
are all we dare of King Kong raging in his pain;
[*road signs in Span and elsewhere*]
and everywhere the dragon selling gasoline,
his black and yellow tongue bereft of sting
(Oh, Toro, Toro
who shrank you down
and drank your blood?).
[*Reference to my abhorrence of viragoes who are also like Dame Van Winkle.*]
Was it lovely Eve, the bullring lady at home the shrew,
who hid her widowed eyes when knives dug at your hearth?
Was it the pinch-faced Leather Duke
who fled the gang fight, left his befriender bleeding,
and ghoulish grew to curse the backs of strangers?
[*See autobiog “A Force in the Field” for this bothersome confrontation with fascist law and courts in Spain of the early 1970’s.*]
Was it the Algeciras judge who held his cigarette like a torch
and stumble-followed it from room to room
holding his court? More likely, then, his tribe of tribers?
those gunhipped, grim-beaked motorcyclists
prick-eared and powered by hornhats aping El Toro?
Or was it the ones who snipped his mighty tail
or lopped his signal ears
or beat the horses to drag his body across the sand?
[Oh, Toro, Toro](https://cuny.manifoldapp.org/system/resource/4/5/7/457a0bf0-c34a-4b01-9947-25acf5c60efe/attachment/medium-c16b43c982de406b3e5524dc04e1ff30.jpg)
El Toro (with annotations) 5
Full description
Poem written by Emanuel in 1978/1980, typed with handwritten annotations. In his notes, Emanuel states that this is the longest poem he has ever written. The poem arises questions of how society treats its inhabitants. (Page 5)
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- typeImage
- created on
- file formatjpg
- file size689 kB
- container titleJames A. Emanuel Papers
- creatorJames A. Emanuel
- issueBOX 5 FOLDER 12 "Whole Grain and Later Poems of James A. Emanuel (Annotated by the Auhtor), draft, part I, 1995 (2 of 2)
- rightsJames A. Emanuel Estate
- rights holderJames A. Emanuel Estate
- version1978/1980