the Corduroy Appreciation Club Member Gallery

parallel (the boy in corduroy)

from first steps, trips,
revisionary slips
back and forth on rails, parallel
grip the wings of silver birds of the sky that scale
fast track no doubt about that with a grip of the stick life never fails
to move forward backwards sideways divideways in all forms of flight and
sight
despite the direction your mind tends to trail
yes, whether you prefer perpendicular, life tends to be parallel
just like the cords of the jacket worn so evidently hip I caught
sight
while traveling through the night on foot, train, and soul seeking
flight
from home to home and in-between always alone
my heart beheld that boy in corduroy
and life momentarily ceased to run parallel

by: Erin Hicks

Why I love Corduroy
(A Coming of Age Story)

In the beginning
it was the sweet
swish swish
of the boys in the hall
on those dark January afternoons
in the Canadian high school of my youth
rushing to their secret destinations
their unwashed cords
crisp with an unnamed scent
known only to other girls
girls in the band
but not my kind of band
just
the other kind
of band

and later
an unraveling
thread
a boy in a lecture hall
on a dark January afternoon
his brown, velvet-soft jacket
(but no, it wasn't velvet)
thread-bare
stained
the elbows patched
the buttons dangling
like his lip
when he stumbled
on a word
or a clasp

but now
it is mine
it is mine
the swish
the sweet swish swish
the cords
no longer brown
and beige
and beige-like
but multi-hued
an interesting cut
across the bias

my love of cord
is mine.

I say

my voice no longer
timorous
trembling
truncated

swish, swish
yes
swish, swish
yes.

SWISH, SWISH

YES

by: Margaret Milnes

Corduroy Freestyle Campaign
...You know the seasons they change, but I don't change my cords...

Soft to the touch,
never rushed, hush hush
oh my dear how i love
these here cords so much
Like wine, your mine
All time, Your mine
On my mind, you make
Make me dizzy gettin busy
With the wales and all your tufts,
Never mind, and Never question
What I'm dressin'...Don't be messin'
With these fines, said
Long-legged ladies!
Short rumpy bumps!
In line behind me till I feel that thump,
Cause they can not stand -- got to move in close
Undress caress me while I give this toast,
To all the inovators, Number one creators -- puff puff
And inhale, Now check the details-- word up jimmy wales --
All that wikedpedia, the cords up in your media,
now book me on expedia -- next flight out tonight-
up up and away, I want a beautiful balloon, to say
what i want to say, back in the day, we wore em Low down
To the shows, don't matter know hows, cause we know how,
To get started-- soft like velvet to the touch, butter crused,
cause the tufts be ever slightly rough,
its like their ribbed for her enpleasurement now show me what the
measurement?

by: A.M. Edwards

closet cleaning ode to monsignor cord

Drat to you, my gut
up and down you go in life
as now you are down quite much
my vast closet is a search for what to keep, what to part
khaki, you rub me wrong
you bagginess appears silly.
denim, you hang too much
i am no 90's rap star
but corduroy
corduroy
oh corduroy, i not a care of your extra material
my legs slip in your top hole down each side
your comfort around each leg warms me so
i will not part with you
i can not part with you
your fabric has me reminisce of happy times.
oh corduroy, for you i love.

by: Andrew Rosentock

The Fabric of Democracy:
A Sestina

Let’s plan for when the sensible are king:
No one would ever hurl harpoons at whales,
Affairs of state apart from men of cloth,
No sketchy tunnels underneath the Channel.
We’d root for justice as the party line.

On Tuesday last, we roared like lions,
Alarming even a confusèd king
Who startled on his gated tuft
As courtiers began to wail:
“They clearly skirted all the proper channels!
Left us the crusty dishes, took the tablecloth!”

It’s nothing new: The emperor’s got no clothes.
While others studied history, he was doing lines,
Avoiding sticky situations through his handy channels.
’Tis true, some shady men are chosen king.
But let our schools of fish be canny as a whale,
Our defense in numbers—strong, unbroken lines.

Not all who think straight can be really tough—
Canvas can quickly turn to mere cheesecloth,
Suddenly nobody’s manning the gunwales;
We clutch for certain comfort like our comrade Linus,
Whatever keeps away the raw—
Dreaming fiercely how to change the channel.

Perhaps our leader will be in Chanel,
Or captain of an ice cream truck.
He may be grilling now at Burger King.
To cut the cord, we’ll need some noble clothes:
All those in this room know in their loins—
It will require something with a whale.

So till ’08 we would do well
To keep our oars straight in the channel,
Draw new lines and color in the lines,
And keep the mud off of our cuffs,
By flying the flag of a singular cloth:
The straight and narrow known as corduroy.

These lines are minnows to a whale—
The King would toss them in the Channel.
But we’ll prevail. We have the winning cloth.

by: Emily Gordon

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