![\"The](\"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/11\/A-poem.jpg\")
<\/h2>\n<\/h2>\nby David Lohrey<\/p>\n
The last folk singer steps out onto the stage.
\nHe carries his guitar and an old banjo.
\nThey say he learned to sing from a
\nJew in Kansas City but I know for a fact
\nhe learned while in prison in the State of Utah.<\/p>\n
They don\u2019t call him a folk singer because
\nof his broken teeth. They don\u2019t praise his looks
\nor his buckskin jacket. The last folk singer can barely walk,
\nand when he talks you can see his stained teeth. His voice
\nstands out and so does his ugly nose. But when he sings,
\nhe makes grown men and women cry. They bawl.<\/p>\n
When the last folk singer was young, the ladies held their breath.
\nHe\u2019d just wink and they\u2019d fall out, as their friends screamed
\nand carried on, begging for more. He looks a hell of a lot like Pete Seeger,
\nbut has had white hair from 30. He looks a little like Johnny Winter
\nand a whole lot like Andy Warhol.<\/p>\n
People can remember him so well from when he was young.
\nHe had long hair and never wore a shirt. They say he got his tattoos
\nwhile in state prison and he was sent there for stabbing his sister.
\nHe croons and strums, hollers and cries; he plays his guitar real loud;
\nthen he\u2019ll get mad and storm out over nothing.<\/p>\n
Furry Lewis who hailed from Memphis was said to have been
\na friend but not his neighbor B. B. King, who didn\u2019t like him one bit.
\nRumor had it he came from Alabama, but Furry swore
\nhe was born in a shit hole somewhere south of Jackson.<\/p>\n
The happiest time of his life was the summer his tomatoes grew
\nthe size of his wife\u2019s favorite dinner plates. They were gigantic
\nand he took them with him to church in a basket to give away.
\nThis went on for what seemed like forever, and he never forgot it.
\nThe rest of the garden was fine, but when he thinks of those tomatoes he smiles.<\/p>\n
The last folk singer began to lose his balance. His body began
\nto fail. At last, they wheeled him out in a special chair, a golden
\nthrone on casters. He sat through most of his songs, but he always
\nstood for the Star-Spangled Banner and America the Beautiful.<\/p>\n
The last folk singer hasn\u2019t long to live. He\u2019s given away most of his prized
\npossessions, including his Stetson and his Gibson guitar. Last week he sold me
\nhis red boots and his silver buckle. He\u2019s down on his luck. As he lay dying,
\nhis manager, Burt Cole, waited for his final words. Even the doctor leaned in
\nand everyone hushed: \u201cI never sing about nothing I didn\u2019t know;
\nI never sing about love.\u201d<\/p>\n
David\u00a0<\/i><\/strong>Lohrey<\/i><\/b>\u00a0grew up in Memphis. He graduated from U.C., Berkeley. His plays have appeared in the UK, Switzerland, Croatia and, most recently, in Estonia. They are available online at\u00a0<\/em>Proplay<\/em>\u00a0(CA). His poetry can be found internationally in\u00a0<\/em>Softblow<\/em>\u00a0(Shanghai),\u00a0<\/em>Cecile\u2019s Writers\u2019 Magazine<\/em>(The Hague) and\u00a0<\/em>Otoliths<\/em>\u00a0(Australia). In the US, recent poems have appeared in Apogee, Abstract Magazine and Poetry Circle. Several have been anthologized by the University of Alabama (<\/em>Dewpoint<\/em>), Illinois State University (<\/em>Obsidian<\/em>) and Michigan State University (<\/em>The Offbeat<\/em>). His fiction can be read in\u00a0<\/em>Dodging the<\/em>\u00a0<\/em>Rain<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0<\/em>Literally Stories<\/em>. His study of 20th<\/sup>\u00a0century literature, \u2018<\/em>The Other Is Oneself<\/span><\/i><\/a>\u2018, was published last year in Germany.\u00a0<\/em>Machiavelli\u2019s Backyard<\/em>, David\u2019s first collection of poetry, appeared in August, 2017. David is a member of the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective. He lives in Tokyo.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" David\u00a0Lohrey\u00a0grew up in Memphis. He graduated from U.C., Berkeley. His plays have appeared in the UK, Switzerland, Croatia and, most recently, in Estonia. They are available online at\u00a0Proplay\u00a0(CA). <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3531,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[408],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3530","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-nature-poems"],"aioseo_notices":[],"amp_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3530","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3530"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3530\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3531"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3530"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3530"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3530"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}