Hearst, James

United States, (1900-1983)

The Farmer’s Season

  1. Yeah, spring, I know spring, the vernal season,
  2. the chores of birth bathed with lilac’s perfume,
  3. but the lily’s gilt rubs off for the farmer’s son
  4. who keeps night-time vigils with mud and rain
  5. and cold. Lord, what a way to inherit the earth,
  6. aren’t there other paths to life and the fullness
  7. thereof ? All this pain and blood and struggle
  8. for a new start, all this sweat and moan to bring
  9. forth, all this care, to clean nostrils and
  10. let in air, to dry the body and warm the blood,
  11. to teach wobbly legs to stand, the mouth to suck.
  12. Here I am alone at midnight with the rain
  13. for music, a bale of hay for my bed, a lantern
  14. for light, and for company an old sow with
  15. a basket of pigs in her belly ready to deliver.

 James Hearst. The Complete Poetry of James Hearst, edited by Scott Cawelti. Iowa City, IA: University of Iowa Press (2001).

Hog Economy

  1. The little pig stuck his nose in the trough
  2. But the big pig moved him over,
  3. He started again where he left off
  4. But the big pig moved him over,
  5. He squealed and shivered, his whole intent
  6. Was to find a place for himself—he meant
  7. To give no offense—and protesting he went
  8. As the big pigs moved him over.
  9. He bristled with signs of a small pig’s right
  10. But the big pigs moved him over.
  11.  
  12. He struggled and bit with a small pig’s might
  13. But the big pigs moved him over.
  14. In the trough was his dinner without fork or plate,
  15. His hunger’s edge warned him not to wait
  16. (Though the pig was little, his need was great),
  17. But the big pigs moved him over.
  18.  
  19. He trembled, the little pig did, in despair
  20. As the big pigs moved him over,
  21. He pushed for the trough like everyone there
  22. But the big pigs moved him over,
  23. He panted and wrinkled his small pig’s face
  24. There was plenty to eat, was size his disgrace?
  25. But the length of the trough, in place after place,
  26. The big pigs moved him over.

 James Hearst. The Complete Poetry of James Hearst, edited by Scott Cawelti. Iowa City, IA: University of Iowa Press (2001).

No Symbols

  1. The barn’s warm breath
  2. smelled of pigs, straw, dust,
  3. fresh manure. The night wind
  4. rattled doors, poked fingers
  5. under sills. The sow heaved and
  6. grunted. He waited for an end
  7. to waiting, the sow stretched
  8. at his feet, her swollen belly
  9. heaving. He reached into her
  10. with two clumsy fingers, felt
  11. tiny sharp toes not yet in this
  12. world, tried to grasp them but
  13. they slipped back. He shrugged off
  14. his gunny sack shawl, ready to help.
  15. He burned a match along a wire
  16. with a loop and sharp hook.
  17. Gently, tenderly, slowly he
  18. inserted the hook and locked it
  19. into the jaw of the unborn pig.
  20. His finger in the loop he pulled
  21. in time with the sow’s labor,
  22. brought the first pig through the
  23. door to the outside. He watched
  24. six more come kicking out
  25. of their shells. A ray of light
  26. shaped the window, shadows are born old.
  27. The pigs rooted the sow’s nipples,
  28. if there was more meaning than that
  29. he was too tired to care.

 James Hearst. The Complete Poetry of James Hearst, edited by Scott Cawelti. Iowa City, IA: University of Iowa Press (2001).

Castrating the Pigs

  1. It always seemed to be a rainy day
  2. when we cut the little boar pigs.
  3. The warm humid June air soaked up
  4. the smells of hogs, manure, sour breath
  5. of the slop barrel, it all stunk.
  6. Father used a special knife shaped
  7. like a half moon, honed on a whetstone
  8. until it would shave the fine hairs
  9. on his arm. The pigs, two or three
  10. weeks old still penned with their mothers,
  11. squealed when we boys grabbed them
  12. and leaped out of the pen just ahead
  13. of the chomping jaws of the mother sow.
  14. The hired man held them by their hind legs,
  15. spread them apart, Father squeezed the
  16. scrotum to make the skin tight, made
  17. two quick slits with the knife and out
  18. popped the testicles like small eyeballs.
  19. He tossed them over the gate into the
  20. alleyway where our collie dog feasted.
  21. Once in awhile, not often, Father
  22. cut into a ruptured pig and its small
  23. guts boiled up. Father gently pushed
  24. them back and carefully sewed up the
  25. wound with Mother’s darning needle
  26. and stout black thread. They always
  27. healed, I never knew one to be infected.
  28. It was a day to get past, hot, stinking,
  29. clouds of dust where the sows barked and
  30. churned up their bedding, pigs squealing,
  31. men shouting, blood-stained overalls.
  32. We boys kept our heads down, ashamed
  33. to be so ruthless in cheating nature.
  34. It wasn’t funny to us when the hired man
  35. winked and said, “They’ll never know
  36. what they missed.” We felt our own
  37. manhood threatened as if strong hands
  38. reached out to rob us.

 James Hearst. The Complete Poetry of James Hearst, edited by Scott Cawelti. Iowa City, IA: University of Iowa Press (2001).

Quiet Sunday

  1. The old dog sleeps on the porch.
  2. The farm dreams a summer Sunday morning
  3. spreading the benediction of shade
  4. for dozing hens and peaceful cows—
  5. only pigs root as if it were Wednesday.
  6. My serenity rises from pious knees
  7. to bagged feet on the graveled path of chores
  8. while my hushed vision rocks the bees
  9. to sleep in tulip bells, ties a spider’s web
  10. across the furrows.

 James Hearst. The Complete Poetry of James Hearst, edited by Scott Cawelti. Iowa City, IA: University of Iowa Press (2001).

About the Poet:

James Schell Hearst, United States, (1900-1983), was a poet, writer, farmer, memoirist and educator. In 1918 Hearst enrolled in Iowa State Teachers College. At the end of his first full year, 19-year-old Jim Hearst broke his neck in a swimming accident. He spent the next 64 years as a paraplegic. Although greatly restricted, Hearst was active in the operation of the family farm with his brother Charles “Chuck” Hearst.

Hearst gradually began writing. He wrote poems and stories in the winter during his idle time as a farmer. Being published and paid for his writing encouraged him to continue, and through the years Hearst became a prominent voice of mid-western farmers.

In 1941 the head of the English Department at Iowa State Teachers College invited Hearst to teach creative writing classes for the college. It was arranged for students to come to Hearst’s house for class and this continued for the next 21 years. In 1963 Jim was invited to be the poet-in-residence at the Summer Arts and Performing Arts Festival in Aspen, Colorado. He was invited to return each summer for the following 13 years.

Hearst wrote more than 600 poems during his life. His poems present a realistic picture of life on an Iowa farm. He also wrote 12 books of poetry, several books of prose, and an autobiography. [DES-01/22]

Additional information:

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