Carl Sandburg - Chicago Poet
I saluted a nobody. I saw him in a looking-glass. He smiled—so did I. He crumpled the skin on his forehead, frowning—so did I. Everything I did he did. I said, "Hello, I know you." And I was a liar to say so. Ah, this. looking-glass man! Liar, fool, dreamer, play-actor, Soldier, dusty drinker of dust— Ah! he will go with me Down the dark stairway When nobody else is looking, When everybody else is gone. He locks his elbow in mine, I lose all—but not him.
For a long time, I didn’t “get” Carl Sandburg. I understood what people saw in him, sure. His work was often raw and visceral. He was the voice for the voiceless in his native Chicago, writing on the plights facing the working class and the immigrant population at the time. I don’t know who was the first person to put the word “pimp“ into a published poem, but I feel like Sandburg has got to be in the running.
Still, I grew up listening to hip-hop artists who were very much the voice for the voiceless. I listened to a recording of Miguel Piñero’s “A Lower East Side Poem” and felt more than I ever had with Sandburg’s Chicago. Even seeing boss pictures like the one above in which he sips a martini with Marilyn Monroe while wearing a fur vest didn’t help me appreciate his work.
Then, about a decade ago, I stumbled across “Chicago Poet.” Sandburg’s self-portrait was funny, sad and so damned relatable. His very first line expresses his conflicting feelings for himself, at once showing his reflection respect and disrespect. He builds into a joke on his sense of self-unawareness. “I said' ‘Hello, I know you.’ / And I was a liar to say so.”
In the end, though, there is an acceptance of self, as he acknowledges that we only have ourselves in death, “the dark stairway” and that there is strength in confidence in oneself, even if that confidence is marred by uncertainty. “He locks his elbow in mine, I lose all — but not him.”
Sandburg acknowledges that it is completely normal to feel unsure of one’s abilities, to feel self-critical and completely a stranger to oneself, as long as ultimately you recognize that you are your steadfast supporter, and you must be.. Be critical, sure, but forgive and support yourself as well. In this piece, Sandburg lent his voice to a voiceless part of me. For that, I salute a nobody.