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BRISK VERSE: A new book and a limited presale offerAutographed or Personalized options
LIMITED OFFERWe are excited to announce the publication of BRISK VERSE, a brand-new collection of Garrison Keillor’s poetry. This compilation of almost 200 poems will take the reader through whimsy and tomfoolery, solemn thought-provoking lines, mischievous observations, and tons of fun. And it’s the perfect gift. (Father’s Day is coming up soon.) Consider taking advantage of this presale offer for an autographed copy or a copy that includes a personalized greeting. Autographed copies will ship after May 15thPersonalized copies will ship by May 30th“Healthful. Invigorating. Good for reading aloud to friends and associates, neighbors, colleagues, bartenders, passersby, even strangers in libraries or on airplanes. One copy of this book will make you the life of the party, a welcome guest in any home, a person of fine taste who also relishes a good time.” “A slender but meaningful volume of plain-spoken poems meant to be read aloud to proximitous persons to ameliorate dyspepsia and depressive inclinations.” Softcover, 240 pages, 7” x 10” MIDNIGHT TRAIN I hear the whistle of the midnight train Heading cross the prairie through the driving rain With a boxcar full of hoboes dying of TB And a chain gang and a dozen refugees. Up front in the club car, listening to the whistle blow, Buddy Holly, Janis Joplin, Marilyn Monroe, Virginia Woolf, and Elvis, his face is ghastly white, Singing “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” The club car’s cold and dark, the gin’s been put away. Franz Kafka sits with JFK and a dozen men in gray Who gave their lives for the Lost Cause and Robert E. Lee And women from the Triangle Shirtwaist factory. And the train raced on, and the lonesome whistle blew For F. Scott and the Edmund Fitzgerald crew And the tribes who were wiped out on the western frontier, And then I saw there was no engineer. It’s the everlasting passage of human suffering, No one is secure from the grief that it can bring. I watch it go by until the red lights disappear, Then I come home, put my arms around you, dear. “What were you doing out there?” you say. “Looking at the stars,” I reply and turn away. Supper’s on the table. Life goes on. The midnight train is past and gone. Someday it may stop for me, I suppose, But I raise my cup, which overflows, Here’s to family and friends good and true, Here’s to the children. Here’s to you.Autographed copies will ship after May 15thPersonalized copies will ship by May 30thYou’re on the free list for Garrison Keillor and Friends newsletter and Garrison Keillor’s Podcast. For the full experience, become a paying subscriber and receive The Back Room newsletter, which includes monologues, photos, archived articles, videos, and much more, including a discount at our store on the website. Questions: admin@garrisonkeillor.com |
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