I come, everyday, to this garden
where the stones sing ancient biographies
and clinging vines grapple
with desirous flower trees.
I always find, in the pond,
one pale fish, turning endlessly
in the murky water of words.
I always hear the wind of your vowels
poured over straight bourbon
and blown through too many Salems.
The sound of your swimming
back and forth calms me.
You have come before me
and hacked a path throught the tangle
and purchased the map
by which I am to travel.
I cannot shut windows against the sirens,
cannot recusitate and hold you,
cannot ask you to be more alive
than the recorded message you have left me,
so I count the syllables
and meter the lines of my own demons
and dip my fingers in the water
to touch you.
for Anne Sexton, circa 1993
Notes to Sexton, 2005
I'm older than you now, Anne.
odd to think that I might have something to tell you.
The ciggarettes in the plant were a good gesture;
as a mostly life-long smoker,
I can appreciate the finality of it.
Just so you know,
we all talk to our dead,
KL, Dead Rick, Bob Kaufman, Bob Kaufman, Bob Kaufman.
But my dark girls have all shucked their habits, Anne,
They're all busy trying to change something,
the speed of light, the Ph of the native soil,
the nature of the work, the heart of a child,
their lives.
That's why i like 'em.
That's why i'm hear to tell
whoever will listen, and you, Anne,
that there's more after 45.
There is more.
In fact, it seems to get better, and listen,
just between you and me,
I'm really glad you didn't take
any body with you,
wild woman.
Oh yeah, and thanks for the map.
Last edited by lucimay on Mon Feb 19, 2007 7:20 pm, edited 5 times in total.
you're more advanced than a cockroach,
have you ever tried explaining yourself
to one of them?
~ alan bates, the mothman prophecies
i've had this with actors before, on the set,
where they get upset about the [size of my]
trailer, and i'm always like...take my trailer,
cause... i'm from Kentucky
and that's not what we brag about.
~ george clooney, inside the actor's studio
a straight edge for legends at
the fold - searching for our
lost cities of gold. burnt tar,
gravel pits. sixteen gears switch.
Haphazard Lucy strolls by.
~ dennis r wood ~
i wrote this piece in 1992, when i got my first computer and started hooking up with a bunch of poets on the old Prodigy Bulletin Boards. i wrote it for them but i resurrect it for all of you here on the Watch who have called me back. i thank you all so much. (i was inspired to dig it out after a friend sent me a song he had written that reminded me of this piece)
The Canticle
when i was alone in this house
with the walls, crowding,
in their impeccable
silence,
i heard voices
in the finely-tuned distance
calling we are here we are here
like the rush and flutter of wings
brushing the fog from my hair
nudging me out of morosity,
and the more i strained to hear
the musical whisper
(we are, hear, we are, hear)
the more urgent they became,
pulling me, tugging me
gently
toward them.
leaving a comet-tail arc of debris,
i came to rest in their choiring
and found uncompromising contentment
in the canticle.
(phooey, posting is not keeping the proper formatting, phooey, it's prettier with it's formatting)
you're more advanced than a cockroach,
have you ever tried explaining yourself
to one of them?
~ alan bates, the mothman prophecies
i've had this with actors before, on the set,
where they get upset about the [size of my]
trailer, and i'm always like...take my trailer,
cause... i'm from Kentucky
and that's not what we brag about.
~ george clooney, inside the actor's studio
a straight edge for legends at
the fold - searching for our
lost cities of gold. burnt tar,
gravel pits. sixteen gears switch.
Haphazard Lucy strolls by.
~ dennis r wood ~
You better come on in my kitchen because
it’s gone to be rainin outdoors....
I can still hear Pricilla singing to me from 1966, the year I turned 8.
She rode my blue bike up and down our street,
her thick braids flapping against the back of her head,
She stood up and pumped the pedals and howled
Whoooooeeeee at the Mister Softee Icecream truck as she flew past it.
I give you my Barbie for that bike, she hollered.
Huh-uh, I yelled back, I’m getting one for my birthday!
You gone get the dreamhouse too?, she teased
as she skidded up beside me on the curb.
We laughed and put our arms together,
wrist to wrist, elbow to elbow, I feel sorry for you, she said,
you white, you ain’t got no color.
My daddy has nappy hair and I’ve got a black Thumbalina doll,
I argued. That don’t count, she told me, you can’t get the blues.
My momma say the blues like me cause I got color.
The summer dust of grass worn to dirt is still on me,
there is a bee stinger still in my foot and the sweet taste
of cherry Kool-Aid on my lips,
bury my heart at the crossroads, Pricilla, the blues like me, too.
They follow me around through the tobacco fields of Mercer County,
through the housing projects (704C McVey Drive), through five different
elementary schools in six years time, through the trailer park of my life,
to the place where I learned that I had a white girl’s name. Cindy.
You should go by your real name, Lucinda, she said, it got more color.
I was born blue, Pricilla, my daddy’s eyes are blue,
cold beer always in his hand, curse for my mother,
(who fought her own civil war from the bedroom to the kitchen,)
always on his lips.
What is the blues, Pricilla, if you don’t have color?
to need what what you need ‘til it hurts?
‘til it makes you moan out in song I believe I’m sinkin’ down.
Is it the shadows and ghosts that live, past all pain,
in the neighborhoods of my heart,
or missing things I’ve never had?
(graduation, wedding, high school reunion)
Is it saying the names of streets to myself until I know
where I am when I’m Trick or Treating by myself?
(Ellis, Eddy, Turk, Ellis, Eddy, Turk)
Or is it the sick feeling I got in my seven year old gut
when my own grandmother told me to
be sure and wash the seat of my bike after Pricilla rode it?
Hun-uh, I guess I must be gone miss you and that bike, she said,
the day she moved away, cause I sure do feel the blues comin’ on,
right here, she said as she placed my small white hand
on her brown stomach, feel it?
Yes, I do, Pricilla.
I sing to her, now.
I got to keep on movin’, blues fallin’ down like hail,
I got to keep on movin’, blues fallin’ down like hail,
and it keeps on worryin’ me,
there’s a hellhound on my trail.
you're more advanced than a cockroach,
have you ever tried explaining yourself
to one of them?
~ alan bates, the mothman prophecies
i've had this with actors before, on the set,
where they get upset about the [size of my]
trailer, and i'm always like...take my trailer,
cause... i'm from Kentucky
and that's not what we brag about.
~ george clooney, inside the actor's studio
a straight edge for legends at
the fold - searching for our
lost cities of gold. burnt tar,
gravel pits. sixteen gears switch.
Haphazard Lucy strolls by.
~ dennis r wood ~
oh the battleground's littered
and the cold light is coming
and i can't help wond'ring
and you won't say why
oh i am the only
soldier worth fighting
and you keep on wand'ring
away from the sky
oh we are not wise enough
and we go on wanting
but the armor is killing us
and the kitchen is haunted
and the hill where i found you
burying your dead
has followed us here
and lives in your head
oh i'm not a prophet
and i can't read your signs
and you keep on wand'ring
away from the sky
oh the day is not long enough
and the night will be falling
and there's no use resisting
when the allies are calling
oh the battleground's littered
and the cold light is coming
and i can't help wond'ring
and you won't say why
oh i am the only
soldier worth fighting
and you keep on wand'ring
away from the sky
oh you keep on wand'ring
away
from
the
sky
you're more advanced than a cockroach,
have you ever tried explaining yourself
to one of them?
~ alan bates, the mothman prophecies
i've had this with actors before, on the set,
where they get upset about the [size of my]
trailer, and i'm always like...take my trailer,
cause... i'm from Kentucky
and that's not what we brag about.
~ george clooney, inside the actor's studio
a straight edge for legends at
the fold - searching for our
lost cities of gold. burnt tar,
gravel pits. sixteen gears switch.
Haphazard Lucy strolls by.
~ dennis r wood ~
sgtnull wrote:Lucimay: the first quote from Blues Like Me, what is it from? is the 2nd quote Robert Johnson.
loved the 2nd, is it a song????
both robert johnson sarge...
come on in my kitchen
and
hellhound on my trail
cassandra wilson does bang up versions of these two on Blue Light Till Dawn. check it out.
(ps...when i perform the piece i sing those parts...)
you're more advanced than a cockroach,
have you ever tried explaining yourself
to one of them?
~ alan bates, the mothman prophecies
i've had this with actors before, on the set,
where they get upset about the [size of my]
trailer, and i'm always like...take my trailer,
cause... i'm from Kentucky
and that's not what we brag about.
~ george clooney, inside the actor's studio
a straight edge for legends at
the fold - searching for our
lost cities of gold. burnt tar,
gravel pits. sixteen gears switch.
Haphazard Lucy strolls by.
~ dennis r wood ~
sgtnull wrote:do you have tapes/cd's of you performing?
ya know...i don't know...there's probably some vhs around here somewhere in my piles of documentation but god knows where...hahahaha.
i do remember a taping of that particular piece (blues like me) at an art show but damned if i know who might have a copy of it...don't think i ever got one now that it comes up!!! hahahahaha!
you're more advanced than a cockroach,
have you ever tried explaining yourself
to one of them?
~ alan bates, the mothman prophecies
i've had this with actors before, on the set,
where they get upset about the [size of my]
trailer, and i'm always like...take my trailer,
cause... i'm from Kentucky
and that's not what we brag about.
~ george clooney, inside the actor's studio
a straight edge for legends at
the fold - searching for our
lost cities of gold. burnt tar,
gravel pits. sixteen gears switch.
Haphazard Lucy strolls by.
~ dennis r wood ~
sgtnull wrote:well you have a computer, can't you burn into onto disc that way?
how do you get vhs to disk? anyway...i don't have the vhs. i have a couple of vhs of other performances with the poetry performing group i was in but how do you get it to disk? i am technologically challenged. and i do have some cassettes of some of our performances...same question applies tho, how do you get it onto the hard drive of the computer to burn to disk?
you're more advanced than a cockroach,
have you ever tried explaining yourself
to one of them?
~ alan bates, the mothman prophecies
i've had this with actors before, on the set,
where they get upset about the [size of my]
trailer, and i'm always like...take my trailer,
cause... i'm from Kentucky
and that's not what we brag about.
~ george clooney, inside the actor's studio
a straight edge for legends at
the fold - searching for our
lost cities of gold. burnt tar,
gravel pits. sixteen gears switch.
Haphazard Lucy strolls by.
~ dennis r wood ~
(your sound card has an input for recording your cassettes, but for VHS I recommend a TV Tuner card installed, with a VCR hooked up. The quality is a little lower than straight video capture w/firewire, etc., but is ok for most purposes. Much easier that way too. Or send them to me, heh. I do that stuff all the time. )
(your sound card has an input for recording your cassettes, but for VHS I recommend a TV Tuner card installed, with a VCR hooked up. The quality is a little lower than straight video capture w/firewire, etc., but is ok for most purposes. Much easier that way too. Or send them to me, heh. I do that stuff all the time. )
nice of you to offer!!! i would have to listen to the tapes and view the vhs to know what to send you...haven't looked at any of that stuff in probably five years or more....you're a sweetpea.
you're more advanced than a cockroach,
have you ever tried explaining yourself
to one of them?
~ alan bates, the mothman prophecies
i've had this with actors before, on the set,
where they get upset about the [size of my]
trailer, and i'm always like...take my trailer,
cause... i'm from Kentucky
and that's not what we brag about.
~ george clooney, inside the actor's studio
a straight edge for legends at
the fold - searching for our
lost cities of gold. burnt tar,
gravel pits. sixteen gears switch.
Haphazard Lucy strolls by.
~ dennis r wood ~
I come, everyday, to this garden
where the stones sing ancient biographies
and clinging vines grapple
with desirous flower trees.
I always find, in the pond,
one pale fish, turning endlessly
in the murky water of words.
I always hear the wind of your vowels
poured over straight bourbon
and blown through too many Salems.
The sound of your swimming
back and forth calms me.
You have come before me
and hacked a path throught the tangle
and purchased the map
by which I am to travel.
I cannot shut windows against the sirens,
cannot recusitate and hold you,
cannot ask you to be more alive
than the recorded message you have left me,
so I count the syllables
and meter the lines of my own demons
and dip my fingers in the water
to touch you.
Wonderful, simply wonderful. Love the first two lines.
Waddley wrote:your Highness Sir Dr. Loredoctor, PhD, Esq, the Magnificent, First of his name, Second Cousin of Dragons, White-Gold-Plate Wielder!
)
