See
Up until I came along
This family never heard the words ‘give up’ we don’t what they mean ask any Bordeleon we say ‘go head’, a cajun mantra.
Ok I said, I’ll go ‘head and go ‘head
if you give me direction
if you kindly set me on the way to Sophia who sings with her
porcelain shoulder blades
San Andreas China plates
arched Golden Gate back.
I told them ‘That. Yea. I’ll go head and give up to that.’
First things first. Show me how to stand again. It’s been awhile.
I got a bonesaw in the back shed
Go ‘head Love, take these feet
here have ‘em if you swear to bury em somewhere good
Georgia maybe, I hear it’s nice.
Show me how to stand right.
I been sittin here on my bedroom floor holdin the ends of ankles close like bleeding pens next to Ray Charles greatest hits and a hill of peach seeds and peach stems from peaches I’ve eaten and eaten just to keep georgia, georgia on my mind the whole day through and make believe I got something like that to sing the blues to.
Get me outta here. Grab a leg and drag me if you have to. These peaches are making me sick.
I swore that ‘Come mornin’ I’m good as gone.’
Well I’ve seen suns upon suns come and gone and I’m still here.
Sitting. On this godforsaken floor.
With white lies wearin a swear’s uniform and mornings past lyin’ down here bored to death, I built them into a bed.
I went ahead and went ahead and set myself on fire to relight all the wicks burnt out I keep in my matchbox (throat)
I swore I’d tie em in a string and use the dead ends to spell ‘Alleluia! I am engulfed in utter Love! It burns!’ I swore to burn like that one more time ‘No no I’m good’ I said ‘I got sledgehammers up my sleeve and I’ll fuckin’ break my way out of this if I gotta. Give me that there match. I’mma look like the 4th of July.’
Well, now everything’s on fire and I’m on fire too and so are you.
Ok.
Stay calm.
Direction.
Break glass in case of emergency.
Break glass.
I’m runnin’ around town with a bag of bricks hysterical shattering shop windows watches and reading glasses hoping to find that one fire extinguisher or fire blanket or damp towel or an answer, some small call back to these flames and all this yelling.
Back to step one.
Break glass.
Well I have and all I have is a floor full of shards from broken windows
2 barefeet to cut up and draw you a big red heart on the carpet.
Look how cute.
2 lungs to take the smoke outta yours and out these mirrors so one day maybe we’ll see ourselves clear again. In this glass, I’m not much more than the mud on my skin spillin levees on my shins and more broken bones than I’d like to count. I’ve been tracin’ arrows in the fog, connecting the dislocated limbs and fractured ends of myself, the lines spell out
GO HEAD GOD MAKE THIS HERE MESS A MAN.
I got a floor with hundreds of musketballs stuck underground all round this house. This sole? It’s a gun held to the temple of Apollo fired and shooting stars out hte other side bloodsplatter constellation against a Union uniform. Apollo knows what I’m saying. Went and burnt my heels on all the stars I wished on for a capital-H Home back home and a darlin’ there to get back to and miles upon miles of God’s Country from here in Antietam to you so I can kick up the Lord’s prayer with my boots with each dusty singing step. I’mma make a sandstorm one day. I’mma baptize you kids in a great Dust Bowl. (if only i still had my feet. This war’s been hard on us. Gettysburg ain’t been so nice either I need to get up and get.)
I’m sorry my room is a mess on account of all the blood.
Turns out sulphur stays in the land, that’s why crops won’t grow here even after forty years.
I got a floor littered with history lessons on fire, and more sulphur and saltpeter than Iwo Jima. I’mma turn this stage into a new Pacific Theatre. Brace yourself and plug your ears.
And it turns out some floods don’t wash sins away and redeem and such, they just make things all wet.
I got a floor full of soaked blueprints sketches and models from having to reinvent myself over and over. Looks like DaVinci had a heyday with this place. The clay has turned to mud caked on my hands and I can’t touch much without making it less shiny. Girls, don’t line up all at once.
This burnt-out washed-up husk of deed box here, it holds the manuscript of my birthday nineteen ninety five or at least the ash that’s left. If you squint your eyes you can still see my backyard inside the dust. My parents put on my cake candles already blown out wicks already burned and icing that spelled ‘KNOW YOUR EXIT’ my only gift: a lesson. A list. Step by step directions on how to go ahead and give up, how to dance, givin’ up down side to side two three ten point turns back outta the rough unpaved parts of life like this and I’ve been doin ‘em ever since.
I got a bedroom floor covered in tire marks from braking
so hard
and breaking
so hard
and turning
so often
and backing out
when I swore to swear to promise I wouldn’t. One of ‘em got broken en route.
if they ask about the burnt rubber, im drawing a star on this carpet
a blue print
makin a second sun here on earth.
like an infant takin its first slow spins in my room now.
go ‘head and go ‘head and have a look.
(arrows, two.)
ya know them, ah, matroshka dolls.
with one in the other in the other.
well i am the last the smallest riiiight
in there
in a belly of paper shields torn
in a hard cover text closed
in a glass bottle drunk
in the concrete arms of Helen fallen
in love
in the back of an ambulance hurt real bad.
Hit the lights.
You dolls you,
I been knocking on this wooden wall for awhile askin God to open up all this Dark.
Open it.
Ok directions, etch this in your heart of hearts.
Walk upstairs.
Check my closet.
Clear the ghosts.
Please excuse the mess and all the cobwebs.
See that case? The one shaped like a fiddle your Mother kissed onto your forehead that plays notes in morse code that spell ‘open it’.
Now, open wide.
Inside’s a guitar.
I got it from Mister Herbert Hurt, a bonafide ghost drifting off the ground down I-10. Got a good deal. Swapped it for fifteen bucks, an old skin I shed way back when, and a ride one hundred ten miles ...that way.
Herb said ‘I’m headed for God’s country. I’d use mud and words and sing a Kingdom up from the dirt with this here guitar but my hands
they aren’t as strong as they used to be and these songs are still so heavy.
Here, see what you can do with it.’
I named this fine instrument Polly like the bird cause it’s easy on the eyes shrill sometimes and for a little bread it’ll talk to ya.
Go ‘head and hold her just take care not slice your hands open, the poems might fall out. There are mouthfuls of arrows and arrowheads tacked on the headstock all of ‘em rusty pointed and going different ways but they are the same
like this family like this house
Each, a paper star strung up in a café named Bethlehem on Christmas. These notes taste like red wine and bread.
Herb said, ‘Kid, you look like you need redeemin’. Let’s make Polly talk. Sling her on your back and walk. Bring a pen and the blanks in your skin and some blankets cause we got a long way to the Promised Land. Nine months or so.’
Where was I?
Right. Back to directions. Like arrows like commandments prescriptions prayers little stars tattooed on my limbs to remind me not to sin whenever i get around to it
one. Thou shalt not lie
two. Thou shalt not lie with her.
three. thou shalt not say I’m sorry, when thou ain’t sorry (see limb one.)
four. thou shalt not swear
five. ah shit. I’m sorry. Ummm…I won’t fuck this up next time I swear. Ah.. I love you (think). Umm …
God i believe in you and I have for awhile.
It’s near eleven, high time you believe in me back or show me you do.
Give me a sign, make it flashy on account of all the dark.
Go tell your angels.
Where I’m goin’ you’ll need armies of ‘em to do all my guarding. I’mma walk on top of fire and floods, hell or high water, going arms out barefoot looking like huck finn on a fence like Christ on a cross. We three want the Mississippi inside us like last night I wanted not to want something bad to happen to me and real bad, so I took some notes. I wrote my own 10 commandments of my own. Like direction like give me stone tablets and I’ll chisel each one down if I have to.
one. clear the ghosts Lord.
two see that case? inside’s a bow.
three open wide.
four make me into an arrow. my head is lead and heavy already make me sharp. wind my throat at one end and use it like a quiver
five nock my body into the string and aim south.
six hold me there.
seven hold and hold hard. till your whole arm shakes scared to death with lullabies your momma hummed with the ocean.
eight, let me slip by accident then miss me sorry you couldn’t goodbye i’ll see you in Zion in the sky.
nine. watch me sing home lord shade your eyes I’m going far this time. Just, way way out there.
and ten…
When I hit my mark at last the rosary by my bed will shed its skin and curl up to sleep on my hand. Chances are, I’ll be barefoot jeans rolled up holdin Herb’s guitar somewhere near and praying, God use my throat use my hands, and right on cue I’ll cough. Cough out a mouthful of arrows. Paper stars tacked on my palms.
God, I know how to make things too and make them good like you.
It’s like thunder.
I learned it.
Awhile ago I asked Herb
‘Hey, ah, which way to God’s Country’
Herb smiled and said,
‘Ya know them ah Matryoshka dolls? With the one in the other in the other.
Son, it’s in our belly. It’s all around.’
He plucked another bible page from his shoulder and like that, crushed it into light.
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