From the day that
Bobby Phillips died
to now
through dreams
to bureaucracy to
homecoming the center
humanity and its
foibles going on and
on like that.
Bobby peeled
the onion for me he could
talk a blue streak about angels
and demons and shit and circles
and on and on, but he meant it
and now he’s gone one layer
at a time in his blue
body bag and two
workers one black one white
hoisting him up and sliding
him in the coroner’s
truck parked out front
the motor running
like an blue elephant
in ribbons and balloons
take me home
if you can
the time drags
so.
A shield a missile
a dance a portal
coming home with you
and you and you
no one knows who
exactly it costs too
much but for the kiss
leaving it all behind
lies and truth and
dreams of holding on.
Instead gone through
I’m holding Bobby now
and Cheryl, Aiden, and Ems
and Shameeka who
wrote the very first
poem I ever heard.
New all new
twenty dollars new
it doesn’t matter
what I do too
I know now what to do.
Speak no more of it
til sleep.
And dream
dream big
bigger balloons
to pop one by one
so beautiful a brook
a look a crook
a crooked look
a downward spiral
the homeless guy with
a little ruck sack
he gave me
a blue tarp.
Eileen Myles
taught me how
you just go
down one
line
at
a
beautiful time
and stop.
I put the tarp behind
a very large propane tank
near the “LIsten" thrift
store 1/2 way up
the long hill from White
River Junction where I'd
jumped off the train
with only like 35$.
I bought a couple sandwiches
at the food coop 1/4 mile
down hill from “Listen” thrift
which the guy with the tarp
and one of those california
beach colored hoodies
said had a feed the homeless
dinner spot somewhere
back down the hill
turn left
at the bridge
or was
it cross
the bridge and then
turn left?
My legs are tired
from going in and out
of the bushes and up
and down the mile long hill
but my Mom’s coming
to pick me up,
120$ but
I could go anywhere.
(Like Wicker Man
I’m finally free.)
I could do anything.
The two caned old lady
dressed all in red and
a young woman who
went the other way.
I walked with the red
carefully and hopped across
a puddle then heard
all the machinary:
“I’ve been working on
the railroad
all the live long day…"
and put a hand on
working man big burly
cut off tee who
didn’t seem to mind
“I need to talk to who evers
in charge?!” I said
and got pointed casually
down the rails further
more loud track work.
The machine was reaching
down and pulling the tie
out with a slither
big black tie and gravel
scattering then track
lifted up and a brand new
tarred up tie slipped in
like it was nothing.
The next machine down
I yelled friendly to the guy
working (it was so loud)
“I just like to watch
the machinary” and he
pointed back to the tie
slipper-in machine and yelled
"be careful with that one"
and in my floating state
I realized I had been and
I told him so then asked
what his machine did
(banging and shifting as it was)
and he said it swept off
the gravel before the other
one came along so
then I proceeded further
(candid camera man
was there, shooting a light pole).
And two more machines.
Before returning flipping
my water bottle in the sun.
My brother Bobby
was a working man
metal forge sculpture man
always getting bits of slag
in his eyes
went to the Shey Eye Institute
so many times
all the docs knew his name
down there.
Sing Sing
Amazing Amazing
Horror the Horror
so “stop" as Bob (Buchanon)
would say
“take a breath"
its worth it
a jingle a jangle
a pocket full of sparkle.
Let the people know
that its a dream go
even the machines are run
on gas on light on tight
budgets with purse strings
to power
gently pull
the strings
to see the power
glisten and gleam.
