-
New Orleans, Natchez, Natchitoches (Poem)
this bar my respite from the town’s primary occupation
that of presenting facade just as brutal in effect as the original
genteel beauty serves the monied and the tourists
gardened grounds available for a suitable fee
the slave post for trade demolished and largely unmentioned
the crack of the whip and the ring of the chain still echo in the streets
District homes with storied pasts still preside with pride of place
in their shadows long cast labor those who keep them
one day some day one of them will take a match and strike
see how long it takes to burn this to the ground
-
In The Shadow Of The Generator (Song)
in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator
in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator
in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator
what did he dream
did he crawl into the bang and thrum
make a nest inside the clang and hum
turn his heart into the piston’s drum
sleep as machined
in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator
in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator
in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator
what did he dream
did he dream of the past when he was so young
did he dream of the present while he was still strong
did he dream of the future when he’d be so old
did he dream of nothing hungry and cold
tired beyond means
in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator
in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator
in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator
what did he dream
did he hear the mountains sing of rocks and creeks
of labyrinth roads with views so bleak
of ridges blue and limned in smoke
where he would die
in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator
in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator
in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator
what did he dream
-
Lesson #31
he did not choose to tell me
I chose not to ask
I gave space for what he said
listened also to what was not
when he left I said goodbye
I do not think he heard
I bid farewell to the ghost
of the person I had thought him to be
it does not matter I’ve come to see
I do not even know myself
so cannot presume to know another
