![\"LastCall-book](\"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/10\/LastCall-book-cover.jpg\")
<\/a>David Lee will be reading and discussing his work, including the book reviewed below, at four different sites in Utah during October as part of the <\/em>Utah Humanities Book Festival<\/em><\/a>: 10\/8 at the SLC Public Library (4th<\/sup> floor) in partnership with City Arts (with poet Gailmarie Pahmeier); 10\/9 Snow College Convocation Series, 12:30 pm, 150 College Ave. East in Ephraim; 10\/10 Kiva Koffeehouse, at 6 pm, mile marker 7386 in Escalante; 10\/10-13 with Craig Childs at the Cliff Notes Writing Conference in Boulder. <\/em><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
David Lee\u2019s latest collection of poetry, Last Call <\/em>(WingsPress, 2014), is a natural and honest pleasure to read. It is like an afternoon at an old watering hole with your buddies elbowed up all along the whiskey-stained oak, heels hooked in the bar foot rest, and the former poet laureate of Utah, Mr. Lee himself, serving up the day\u2019s oratory libations.<\/p>\n Last Call<\/em> is a eulogy to Lee\u2019s colleague in verse, and late friend, Bill Kloefkorn. The poems also tell a sweeping story set in Garza County, Texas, that revolves around \u201cThe Monument to the South Plains.\u201d The monument is young Willy John\u2019s \u201cindigenous sculpture.\u201d<\/p>\n \u2026a tower amalgamated between an obelisk<\/p>\n and a Babel ziggurat, a spiral of plough shares<\/p>\n fenders and motor covers, tractor seats and steering wheels<\/p>\n a corn planter, spring tooth harrow and a flat cultivator<\/p>\n manure spreader, deep trench, disc cultivator and a windrower<\/p><\/blockquote>\n Lee\u2019s Garza County, not in the heart of Texas but surely positioned in an important organ\u2013say the spleen?\u2013is populated with characters divers and appealing. Their language is simple and colloquial, roughshod and earthen\u2013\u201cTexanese.\u201d Two retired professors, Billy Klogphorne and Clovis Ledbitter hold court through most of the poems with their bickering and erudition.<\/p>\n That, sir, being a highly commendable votive castureation worthy of one PBR<\/p>\n Which I accept with honor<\/p>\n Let us go then you and I <\/em><\/p>\n while the evening spreads against the sky<\/em><\/p>\n like alcoholics to the School Board Meeting<\/p>\n I, sir, am not an alcoholic<\/p>\n I am a votive casturationist drunk<\/p>\n The difference being?<\/p>\n Alcoholics go to meetings<\/p>\n I\u2019m going to Adolph\u2019s<\/p>\n Perhaps you do know Jack Shit<\/p>\n and in that light<\/p>\n I, sir, will be your Sancho Panza<\/p><\/blockquote>\n You can sense that Lee has sat there in Garza County and just listened. Listened in the bars and the town council meetings and the cafes. He\u2019s hunkered down in the buffalo grass at the ends of county roads and in the gravel of the school playground. There is a rhythm in these poems, a solemn plains note lifted with rumba.<\/p>\n listening to jazz, the morning sage and Raft River bank brush<\/p>\n bent frostquivering willowwhite<\/p>\n and the road kill breakfast club buzzards<\/p>\n flap flapping across my window like sleetwind<\/p>\n sky curdled into thunderbumpers<\/p>\n gas tank three quarters leaning on half<\/p>\n Miles slouched over my tiny mind<\/p>\n blowing Bye bye Blackbird<\/p>\n because I\u2019m driving all alone<\/p><\/blockquote>\n A few folks come and behold Willy John\u2019s statue, to stand around it, ponder, and pontificate. Then la Bruja, \u201cEva Saenz Mendietta the Seer\u201d sees a face half way up and states: \u201cVeo la cara de la Virgen and all were sore amazed\u201d. She whispers to Willy John\u2019s father, \u201cCuidado, novio, if this gets out \/ it will no longer be a sculpture or monument \/ it will become a shrine. ?listo para eso?\u201d<\/p>\n And so they do come, \u201cthe paisanos\u2026by the pickup truckloads \u2026until Willy John\u2019s father\u201d<\/p>\n had to build and plumb toilet facilities<\/p>\n put out fifty five gallon oil drums for garbage<\/p>\n then the word spread to the gringos<\/p>\n who came in station wagons in order to make damn sure<\/p><\/blockquote>\n I read straight through this collection. Then turned right back to the first page and started over. As with most poetry, second readings reveal new insight, different shadings, like driving over old highways from Twin Falls, Idaho, say, down to Garza County, and then turning back around to see it all from a different perspective. Clovis makes that first leg of the drive in the poem titled \u201cDriving Solo: Clovis Rants A Monologue in Five Acts with Intermission\u201d as well as in \u201cInterlude at McDonalds in Ely, Nevada, drinking coffee after filling up my truck with stagecoach-robbery priced diesel ten point two m.p.g.\u201d<\/p>\n Long titles. There\u2019s also:<\/p>\n Substitute Teacher<\/p>\n or<\/p>\n The morning Billy Klogphorne taught the adolescent male Sunday School<\/p>\n class lesson on the designated Christian Leader Preparation<\/p>\n outline topic of Genesis 5: 18, 19 and 23, 24,<\/p>\n proving Lamech and polygamy were of the lineage of<\/p>\n Cain and therefore accrsed of God<\/p>\n And<\/p>\n Why he was never invited back<\/p>\n to teach Sunday School again.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n The \u201cWhy\u201d is partly because:<\/p>\n Brother Klogphorne<\/p>\n isn\u2019t it adultery? and isn\u2019t adultery a sin?<\/p>\n Young man<\/p>\n that is a wholly different topic<\/p>\n but in any case I do not believe it is necessarily so<\/p>\n Adultery is recreation.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n There is that, and there is also the story elucidated to the Sunday school children about Brother Klogphorne\u2019s stob that when invoked keeps his pants up. A story best kept to the imagination or to those so inclined to search out Mr. Lee\u2019s book to ferret out the finer details of why he was never invited back to teach Sunday School.<\/p>\n And this:<\/p>\n Okay lay it on its side and turn it upside down<\/p>\n standing up so wegn get to the wheel<\/p>\n now you take a pair of pliars and a monkeyranch<\/p>\n you just uncrack that nut like this<\/p>\n loosen it up to where the wheel comes off<\/p>\n you don\u2019t have to take the nut all the way off<\/p><\/blockquote>\n So begins a lesson on fixing a flat tire on a bicycle meted out by Johnny Bert Ezell in his filling station \u201cAt the Sign of the Flying Red Horse\u201d on a slow afternoon to young Monroe Newberry whose no-account father hasn\u2019t taken the time to teach his boy some of the more useful parts of life. Johnny Bert Ezell knows how to fix a flat tire. And he knows how to fix a car: you start with the easy stuff:<\/p>\n Lucy Beth<\/p>\n when a car won\u2019t start<\/p>\n the first thing I\u2019d do was check the fuel gauge<\/p>\n turn on the key and if the line don\u2019t come up<\/p>\n it\u2019s probley out of gas and that\u2019s your problem<\/p><\/blockquote>\n Too bad the car that wouldn\u2019t start was not the reason Lucy Beth was there to see ol\u2019 Elder Ezell. She did (as I did!) get a fine tutorial on troubleshooting a dead car\u2026but nothing on what to do with a wayward husband.<\/p>\n Details. \u201cnow bend down over the fender for a sightline \/ and click the ignition one bump at a time \/ till the points come all the way open\u201d.<\/p>\n Details. \u201cYougn lean over and examine the carburetor when the housing lid\u2019s off\u201d.<\/p>\n Hope. \u201cI\u2019ll bet two dollars to a doughnut \/ wegn get her done one way or anothern\u201d.<\/p>\n These poems tell a story in sun-struck verse that is irreverent, ribald, and elegant. Words in the vernacular like \u201concet\u201d and \u201ctwicet\u201d and \u201cwegn\u201d pepper the lines and flavor the world of Garza County. But in the poem \u201cLast Call,\u201d Lee lets us not forget in the end that life is short and good honest friendship and admiration for lost friends can inspire verse that hums with perfect pleasure like a prairie wind through taut-strung bailing wire in the upper most reaches of a Monument to the South Plains.<\/p>\n And you my friend<\/p>\n whom the gods call<\/p>\n into that other alone<\/p>\n wherever you wake<\/p>\n be it desert or forest<\/p>\n mountain or seaside<\/p>\n find tinder<\/p>\n dry moss and kindling<\/p>\n flint<\/p>\n strike a small fire which<\/p>\n being eternity<\/p>\n will flicker beyond forever<\/p>\n sing<\/p>\n your bright poem<\/p>\n fork your lightning dance<\/p>\n I will find you<\/p>\n sooner than later wherever<\/p>\n you wait in the darkness<\/p>\n We will sing together<\/p>\n delirious and off key<\/p>\n We will tell great lies<\/p>\n to shame the heavens<\/p>\n We will cook with wine<\/p>\n I promise you this<\/p><\/blockquote>\n #<\/p>\n David Lee will be reading and discussing his work, including the book reviewed below, at four different sites in Utah during October as part of the Utah Humanities Book Festival: 10\/8 at the SLC Public Library (4th floor) in partnership with City Arts (with poet Gailmarie Pahmeier); […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1516,"featured_media":26668,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2589,30,35],"tags":[2096],"class_list":["post-26669","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-book-reviews-literary-arts","category-book-reviews","category-literary-arts","tag-david-lee"],"publishpress_future_action":{"enabled":false,"date":"2026-07-28 19:18:38","action":"change-status","newStatus":"draft","terms":[],"taxonomy":"category","extraData":[]},"publishpress_future_workflow_manual_trigger":{"enabledWorkflows":[]},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/26669","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1516"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=26669"}],"version-history":[{"count":8,"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/26669\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":47959,"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/26669\/revisions\/47959"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/26668"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=26669"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=26669"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=26669"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}\n
![\"David](\"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/10\/David-Lee.jpg\")
<\/a>David Lee was raised in Post, Texas, a background he has never completely escaped, despite his varied experiences as a seminary student, a boxer and semi-pro baseball player (the only white player to ever play for the Negro League Post Texas Blue Stars) known for his knuckleball, a hog farmer, and a decorated Army veteran. Along the way he earned a Ph.D., taught at various universities, and recently retired as the Chairman of the Department of Language and Literature at Southern Utah University. After 30 years in Utah, Lee and his wife Jan relocated to Bandera, Texas. Lee was named Utah’s first Poet Laureate in 1997, and has received both the Mountains & Plains Booksellers Award in Poetry and the Western States Book Award in Poetry. Lee received the Utah Governor’s Award for lifetime achievement and was listed among Utah’s top twelve writers of all time by the Utah Endowment for the Humanities. He is the author of fifteen books of poetry. In 2004, So Quietly the Earth was selected for the New York Public Library’s annual “Books to Remember” list. Read an interview with David Lee in the [Bandera Courier<\/a>]<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"