Arthur Wilbert Copeland
October 2, 1937-November 5, 2011
i
Mr. A. W. Copeland was a
Civilization unto himself who
practiced pure gentility
in a society that never knew
the meaning of
the word
ii
he was an undiscovered
force of nature
with billions of facts
orbiting his gravitational
mind
iii
he knew the appurtenances of
class more naturally than
the most gilded European
aristocrats––the touring cars, the coats,
the guns, the pipes, the cigars,
the liqueurs, the manors, the heather,
the jodhpurs––& he loved
them
iv
when he could not find
organization in this grease pit,
of a nation,
he set out
to create some of his
own
v
he always saw the big
picture overlooking the dust
& the hardpan
knowing explicitly where
the irrigation would one day spout
& where the grass would one day
grow
vi
there was ever a cheerful
smile under his tastefully feathered
fedora
vii
the tiffany lamps glowed
& the fire flickered up out of the ashes
as his impish baritone voice
hovered graciously above
his wondering cigar
smoke
viii
the centerpiece of his
existence was his Judy-Bell––
& his heart could not live
without her
ix
one day i found him
spinning in a whirlwind of words
& he gave me a home
x
how could i have known that
every stitch on every shoe
was straining to reach
perfection?
xi
patiently he explained.
over & over & over,
the fine points of washing
a jaguar; the secrets of
torque; &
the mysteries of the specially
engraved purdy
shotgun
xii
he enlisted me as a
recruit in his campaign for
order against
chaos––one washer
in a baby-food jar
at a time
xiii
he taught all of us
how to live large lives––
always attending to
the minutest
detail
xiv
that realizing the pleasure of
ownership means investing infinite
care
xv
he dreamed a big dream
of auto rallies & pheasant hunts,
of schimmelpennicks & churchills,
of strega & drambuie,
of mesquite steaks & proper after-dinner port,
of libraries & book stores,
sangria & spanish guitars,
of sound systems & cigar shops,
of prairies & meadows,
of old friends & Judith Dear
xvi
his thoughts thundered
against the silence
xvii
& helped me find
a me inside my self
xviii
he sent a young sir on a tobacco
errand across the rolling hills
of eastern turkey & the
syrian coast; on a reconnaissance
to all the junkyards of new jersey
for a saloon mark ix 1969 mint
bell housing;
& one time I found him
the most flawless pipe tool
in all of heaven
xix
here was an orphan who
insisted on a world where
every lost carriage bolt
had its place
xx
scott said: a gentleman among barbarians
raffer said: let’s hope heaven proves to be satisfactory
xxi
robert said: he knighted me with the spirit
to be free & so
i am
xxii
Mr. A. W. Copeland bequeathed us all
an inheritance of unquenchable learning
& limitless possibility––
& i for one, would not have
accomplished one damn thing
in my lifetime without
him
xxiii
Lord Wilber was King &
Princess Judith became his
Queen & they lived in
Camelot every day of their
lives
xxiv
explicit liber regis quondam regisque futuri––
this is the story of the once & future king