Folklore, Education And The Stasis/Dissipations Of Societies plus a poem in rough draft

Rough draftings of an essay to be expanded---Plus the draft of a poem based on a bit of  Maryland Folklore.

Folklore, Education And The Stasis/Dissipations Of Societies.

The appeal of folklore and regionalism.  That is the old education.  Of the land and that is also the history--The education of the history of the land.  The pertinent educational lyricism of locality.  Locality is where anyone is.

There are intense subtleties and nuances when stating the obvious.  Dangerous even.

I grew up in North Georgia.  The old folkloric Appalachian traditions mostly died out and still dying out in the applications of everyday life to this day.  I was not the better for it.

There is an unsettling abstraction beneath folklore(s).  A haunted truth not spelled out entirely. Eternal proverbs.  Stories---storied

There are things speaking in the woods.  There are things speaking in vacant city lots.  There are things speaking in the old railroad beds.  There are things speaking in the library. There are things in forgotten small towns ---crossroads that ge drunk on morning fog. Sentient things.

I am speaking about the struggle to hold onto a persistence of awareness that grasps a wholeness.  Elusively elusive.

What are the stories any where telling?  Let us denounce a society that denounces mystery.

The Ghost of Peddler's Run

tha ghost is a lantern down that lonely road

tha man ghost hauls something around down upon

that lonesome road--

whole histories happened down thar

and were forgotten

like how cold a winter can beat

till yer bones are bruised

or the Klutzy toothing of lover's gone

shadows are memorized into shadows

and blood bled wet dew on the grass

whilst the moon was almost full

A headless body

wasz found by

Mary Pickett's woods

found by the creek burble

they buried tha body

without tha head

could not find that fucking

head

body got buried neath a giant rock

buncha strangers

3 crows cawed 6 times that

morning

that day like a tombstone

where acid rain

devoured marble

 Ghost of fat

rain always gits

fatter

will eat you

someday

tha how of that matter

--don't matter-- or give a damn

           

your dead will get dead

everything wasz written

down so it could die.