- Susandale
Upon Reading Gertruce Stein
Upon Reading Gertrude Stein
A Sillier Than Silly Rhyme
A rose is a rose is a rose is a rose
What does that mean, do you suppose?
I asked Picasso, a friend of Stein’s
In between cubes when he replied—
“I need a model and care not for a rose
Would you mind taking off your clothes?”
“Well, I need an answer, and I need my clothes
If you don’t, who knows what is a rose is a rose?”
I inquired of Hemingway, a peer of Stein’s
In their early Paris days of roses and wines
Ernest said, “It’s all bull, and speaking of bulls,
I’m off to the corrida de toros
I haven‘t got time for roses is roses.“
Matisse, Juan Gris, Apollinaire
About roses they did not care
“Four Saints In Three Acts“
V. Thomson was composing
Not a moment could he spare
For rose is a rose-ing
But surely Alice Toklas knows
About the rose being a rose
Claimed Alice— “I’ve lived with Gertrude forever and a day.
And that genius, tender buttons, doesn’t have to say.“
At 27 rue de Fleurus, art and genius reside.
‘It would follow,’ thought I, ‘Ezra would be welcome inside.’
“On no,” Pound said. “Though I admired her straw hat
Once, I plunked on her chair, I smashed it flat.
Thus, was I banished just like that.”
And James Joyce, of “Ulysses” fame
To Gertrude, you must never mention his name
Sylvia Beach: she published both Joyce and Pound
Gertrude didn’t want Sylvia around
Well, this rose is a rose
is a rose, is a rose is a rose
Has my thoughts quite jarred
No one left to consult but the Bard
To go back all those years
I steer and I veer
Through séances, crystal balls
Smoke and mirrors
At last, here is Shakespeare,
He is coming in clear
Directing “Hamlet” when he proposed
“Gertrude’s rose has been, is always
A rose, is a rose, is a rose, is a rose”