Friday, July 3, 2009

Death Becomes Us

aw the moon

it do just hang there it do just sit up there in the sky in the southwest georgia darkness full and bright a portal into other worlds look deep look long spin spin within its circle of light draped round the meadow garments flowing arms outstretched and twisting head back mouth open tongue extended reaching oh they reach waiting wanting god willing god will provide the sugar it drips it drops onto this earth sprinkles of darkness glowing black cloying beads of lust confused with love confused with simple being with

state of mind

spirit body jesus claims it all he comes collecting pushing his rusting shopping cart through the aisles the front left wheel wiggling a six year old's loose tooth hey look ma hey look jesus he digs through the trash cans poking around with an old stick blackened smooth by the oils in his hands from the oils permeating up out through his hunting grounds every now and then he finds a little treasure a bit of a soul a touch of heart of this of that a little something a bit of love thrown away we've so much to give though we barely give him any we give him nothing give him none leave him kneeling beseeching at the church door it banging in the wind

the breath of satan himself sliding around over and under the sanctuary oh what a funny word refuge haven harbor protection from the very breath of satan himself sliding about he can't come in unless invited he peers through the windows nose pressed close against the glass his hoary breath scorching leaving stains reds oranges yellow

the preacher back inside

still at the dais arm hand finger pointing upward his puffy black sleeve hanging limply simply hanging his face all scrunched up a fresh red apple sitting within the roaring hearth propped up against broad burning branches retaining its fiery color yet hissing spitting screaming a high pitched commentary against hedonism godlessness alcohol and them duke boys

they be so hazardous

we don't like you we just want to try you

brotherman telling us my grandfather
he had been such a good man
brotherman telling us my grandfather
he be delivered back to the land

from whence he came from whence he was made from whence we are all made we come from the dirt we live in the dirt we return to the dirt

brotherman he stand up prancing around the altar dancing about the dais a black stallion stud nervous skittish before the coupling pacing back and forth back and forth that little black mic connected to his shiny black robes his gravely voice baritoning out from beneath slicked grey hair feathery eyebrows scraggly nose hairs his blue black stripe tie atop a starched white collar showing beneath the robe brotherman making that artful transition from the slight mention of the dead that he does not know that he could not know that he would never ever know

to dire warnings of hellfire brimstone treacle and mistrust

a sermon of grand southern baptist tradition

granddaddy he sitting in the back row near the aisle at the door like he always do like he always has back there next to deputy sheriff faircloth who pops out his big pocket knife slides the blade beneath his finger nails cleans out the grime he might have forgot that morning that might have built up while mowing the lawn raking up the grass tilling the garden

always something to do on a saturday afternoon

granddaddy he sitting in the back row near the aisle at the door like he always do like he always has his chin down all reverent down in his chest eyes closed til they're open til they're needed

to lead him home

he ain't got nothing against jesus he just ain't got much to say to him hell granddaddy he ain't ever had much to say to anyone don't you know granddaddy he stare out the open church window sees two crows up in the tall maple two crows fucking cawing loudly goddamned what a glorious morning

brotherman what you got to say
two crows fucking
brotherman it's a glorious day
let's get lucky

granddaddy he stands up slides past the sheriff puts on his hat as he slips out the door he is not lot's wife he looks not over his shoulders just meanders on out in his shuffling way

jesus kneeling at the church door watching granddaddy wander off though the woods his boots blundering across crushing crunching the dried oak maple leaf carpet stopping every now and then to gaze up into the canopy above look for the crows perhaps take a deep breath exhale slowly in a bit of a yawn meander on toward the lake and slip into his old skiff the little two stroke motor idling low puttering off into the mist dropping in a drag line

a ripplous wake

lapping the red clay and sand beach brotherman spews earthly venom no devil dare dance in his church god's church built of sweat and angst and tears and worry and vigilance god is to be feared god is waiting for that day of reckoning where he will return through his only son our lord smite down the wicked the infidels the heathens

god grant us the strength

to withstand the devil

granddaddy whistling there ain't no devil just god when he's drunk

aw the moon

the night before double trouble boil and bubble the fungal fruits of farmer fred's elsie cow droppings our boots kicking shit up and over leaning over hands on hips eyeballing the form studying the slight sine of the curve of the cap reaching down thumping the hood leaving behind spores for others for future generations plucking it gingerly shaking it sweetly giving any holdouts one last chance to escape carry it aloft presenting it up to the fading afternoon early evening light checking for love for art and science for that tell tale purple ring around the upturned edges secrets passed down from brother to brother cousin to cousin

spore to shroom to spore to shroom

circle of life aub zam zam may this circle be unbroken by and by lord by and by put your left foot in take your left foot out do the hokey pokey turn yourself around that's what it's all about eenie meenie minie moe catch a nigger by his toe we are all precious in his sight

the princess
spins the straw
into gold
the alchemist
bends god's law
sells his soul

boils down the love to opaque purples and blues a mystical seminole silhouette sliding escaping into the swamp

hounds baying
mules braying
soldiers preying

pours it into the crystal chalice of the day a mason jar empty of yesterday's fig preserves holds it up to the fifty watt bulb hanging from the cord dropped down from the ceiling a hangman's incandescent noose

the elixir's impermeable dullness the light's somber presence suggestive the shaman nods we are good we are ready we are to be joined as one

come let us pray

let us share good drink good food good times we sip of the kool aid we smile we wait we count down from ten we vomit willingly into the wooden bowl as it's passed around let us be men swing our dicks wildly divining rods of celestial love hunting hunting searching while running through the woods down the ravine down the creek leading to the lake the trees leaning over beating us mercilessly with their branches one thousand nine hundred ten lashes for the date of his birth one thousand nine hundred ninety for his death

eighty seven thousand or so for the slices of bacon eaten during his lifetime

brotherman where do we go from here
life so short
brotherman go fetch me my spear
fishing's no sport

we stand beside the almost still water that laps at our feet that tickles our toes we bleed we do we just hang up here in the sky in the southwest georgia darkness full and bright a portal into other worlds look deep look long spin spin within its circle of light draped round the cove of our toes little fishies begging fins flowing outstretched and twisting heads back mouths open tongues extended reaching oh they reach waiting wanting god willing god will provide we provide the rosy sugar it drips it drops onto into their waiting mouths sprinkles of darkness glowing black cloying beads of lust confused with love confused with simple being with

granddaddy puttering by in his little skiff beneath the moon it just hangs there he don't wave granddaddy he don't wave he acknowledges us with a glance and a nod

and ain't that what we all we want ain't that what we all need bless our presence on this green earth acknowledge our existence it's hard enough out there wandering around the woods crashing down through the ravines getting all muddy and scraped up

granddaddy he putters on by and all that

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