kisses cold as piranha teeth

  eyes digging scaly reflections in dirty mirrors

  cracked & fading

  become, now a confluence of rivers, blood

  a confluence of musical faces, blood swimming through

  sundown, dusk, blood, the sonorous magic of elliptical

  calibrations spinning inside

  memory discs, blood

  stitched into music

  sing, now, of windprints, birds

  climbing cadences, stitched memory

  sing now of rapture swimming through river-veins

  spirit of bones bright as lightning in blood

  deep mud bed of mississippi river bottoms

  where the ancestors sing now in sleep

  sing now a bone deep rhapsody

  a memory of skulls

  blues steeped

  sing, now stone-sculpted

  legacy, of blues, chiseled mornings

  sing now, sing now

  sing a blues

  6.

  but this road back long gone,again long

  gone, back again blues

  long gone eye went back forward again, to this

  river Mississippi, to this toad squatting city

  catfish arms widespread in slippery welcome

  come back home again

  to these dry-bone kisses

  of formaldehyde memories, eyes death ridden

  as forty-five bullets

  come back home again carrying my age strapped

  on my side like a revolver

  all my young quicksilver years running into this river

  mississippi river, snake-back carrier of dreams

  & home is wherever ancestor bones are

  buried, kneedeep memories live as dreams

  become ribcages of miracles

  built from death

  as a man holding the sun between his teeth

  his smile a dazzling daybreak, a blue-black blues man

  sun man caught the sun between his gapped teeth

  sprouted wings & flew away into the music

  now his spirit holds up the sky

  his smile the golden eye

  torching high, mornings skies

  snake-back carrier of dreams, mississippi

  seven throw eleven to win at the game of dice

  eye carry snake-back river of dreams on my back

  river mississippi, where the spirits climb out

  of now, move beneath the arch’s

  parabolic flight

  upside down question mark

  razor’s edge of a stationary pendulum slashing

  the blue throat of the sky turning now

  a skillet fried-yellow now

  snake-back carrier of dreams, the song climbs

  out of itself now, shaking riverweeds that turn

  into faces familiar on memory discs, spinning

  faces familiar as crushed coal

  dust, greets me here

  with outspread arms filigreeing cobwebbed drapes

  old streets where familiar buildings have been

  removed, like abscessed teeth from the mouth

  of old fisherman ghoul

  who used to tell me all those great stories

  of the heydays of st. louis, before the scars came

  before the mumbles came & he lost his peg-legged teeth

  like those abscessed buildings

  before he fell into senility & was pulverized

  by the pendulum wrecking ball of progress

  that is time, which is history’s

  consuming fire, which is death

  & life at the same time

  7.

  but this road that has been so long gone now

  is here again, back again blues

  long gone eye have come back to this muddy river

  again, to this toad squatting city of catfish arms

  widespread in slippery welcome

  come back home again

  to all my quicksilver memories running

  into this river, mississippi river

  snake-back carrier of dreams

  river mississippi

  snake-back carrier of dreams

  seven throw eleven eye win

  at the game of dice

  seven throw eleven eye win whatever

  the game holds for me, now

  whatever this catfish armed city

  holds for me now, eye win if only

  eye can come back & go forward again

  at the same time, seven throw eleven

  eye win at the game

  of dice & the blues

  snake-back carrier of dreams

  seven throw eleven eye win

  the blues, seven throw eleven

  eye win the blues

  SOUTH CENTRAL VANDEVENTER STREET RUNDOWN

  to leave any house

  was to smell the scent,

  burnt flesh scent hanging

  noxious in the air

  & to leave any house

  was to know the odor

  burnt flesh hanging

  like death in the air,

  burnt flesh hanging

  like death in the air

  & to know the odor

  was to know

  where death came from

  packin’ house, slaughter house

  burnin’ flesh blues

  spreadin’ the news ’bout death

  & can smell it in springtime,

  can smell it in summertime

  can smell it

  seven days a week singeing air,

  in autumntime, in wintertime

  all the time anytime

  burnt flesh, hanging

  as death, in the air

  burnt flesh hanging

  as death in the air

  RIVER TOWN PACKIN HOUSE BLUES

  for Sterling Brown

  Big Tom was a black nigguh man,

  cold & black,

  eye say Big tom was a black nigguh man,

  black steel flesh,

  standin’ like a gladiator, soaked in

  animal blood, bits of flesh,

  wringin’ wet,

  standin’ at the center of death,

  buzzards hoverin’,

  swingin’ his hammer called death,

  260 workdays,

  swingin’ his hammer named death

  Big Tom was a black packin’ houseman,

  thirty years,

  eye say Big Tom was a black packin’ houseman,

  loved them years,

  & swang his hammer like ol John Henry

  poundin’ nails,

  swang that hammer twenty years

  crushin’ skulls

  of cows & pigs screamin’ fear

  the man underneath slit their throats,

  twenty years,

  the man underneath slit their throats

  Big Tom was a ’prentice for ten long years,

  watchin’ death,

  eye say Big Tom was ’prentice for ten long years,

  smellin’ death,

  was helper to a fat white man

  who got slow,

  was helper to a fat white man

  who swang a hammer

  till he couldn’t do it no mo’,

  so he taught Big Tom how to kill

  with a hammer,

  he taught Big Tom how to kill

  & twenty years of killin’

  is a lot to bring home,

  eye say twenty years of killin’

  is a lot to bring home,

  & drinkin’ too much gin & whiskey

  can make a gentle/man blow

  don’t chu know

  eye say drinkin’ too much

  gin & whiskey

  can make a good man

  sho nuff blow,

  don’t chu know

  Big Tom beat his wife after killin’ all day,

  his six chillun too,

  eye say Tom beat his wife after killin’ all day,

  his young chillun too,

  beat ’em so awful bad, he beat ’em right out they shoes,

  screamin’ blues,

  eye say he beat ’em so awful bad

  he made a red-eyed hungry alley rat spread the news

  ’bout dues

  these black/blues people was payin’, couldn’t even bite ’em,

  cause of the dues

  these black/blues people was payin’

  Big Tom killed six men, maimed a couple a hundred,

  & never served a day,

  eye say Big Tom killed six men, maimed a couple a

  hundred,

  never in jail one day,

  the figures coulda been higher, but the smart ones,

  they ran away

  eye say the number that was maimed, or dead, coulda

  been higher,

  but the smart ones,

  they ran away, swallowin’ pride, saved from the graveyard,

  another day,

  the smart ones,

  they ran away

  Big Tom, workin’ all day, thirty years,

  uh huh, sweatin’ heavy

  Big Tom swingin his hammer, all right, twenty summers

  outta love

  Big Tom killin’ for pay,

  uh huh, twenty autumns, outta need,

  Big Tom dealin’ out murders, like a houseman, all night,

  in the painyards, outta false pride,

  Big Tom drinkin’ heavy, uh huh,

  laughin’ loose in taverns,

  Big Tom loose

  in Black communities, death fights cancel light,

  & Big Tom keeps on, stumblin’

  & twenty years of killin’

  is too much to bring home to love,

  eye say twenty years of killin’

  is too much to bring home to love,

  & drinkin’ heavy gin & whiskey

  can make a strong man fall in mud,

  eye say drinkin’ too much gin & whiskey

  can make a good man have bad blood

  don’t chu know

  can make a strong

  man have

  bad blood

  Big Black Tom was a cold, nigguh man,

  strong & black

  eye say Big Black Tom was a cold nigguh man,

  hard steel flesh,

  & stood like a gladiator, soaked in blood,

  bits of flesh,

  soakin’ wet,

  stood at the center, in the middle of death,

  sweatin’ vultures,

  swingin his hammer called death, 260 workdays,

  for twenty years,

  like ol John Henry,

  eye say swingin’ his hammer named death

  POEM FOR MY BROTHER TIMMY

  for Timothy Troupe

  we walked streets

  of river-rhythm town counting

  cars that passed

  for nothing else better to do

  warm cold days now packed

  away in straw

  & when at home on Delmar

  & Leonard Streets, living over Joe’s

  supermaket, on weekends

  would repeat from our window

  the same ritual

  all over again

  this counting of passing cars

  (you took the Fords

  eye took the Chevrolets

  but the Cadillacs would win).

  & from our window, on saturday nights

  we would watch the drunken fights

  across the street

  at Meyer’s Tavern

  where people died with

  ridiculous ease from street surgeons’ knives

  summers brought picnics & barbecues

  baseball games & hot, funky parties

  where we styled hard laid off

  in bad summer rags

  & on warm idle days

  on concrete, playground courts

  eye would beat the hell out of you

  playing basketball, until it got dark

  in winter, we would bundle up tight

  in fast shrinking clothes

  bought three years before

  when daddy was making money playing baseball

  in Batista’s Cuba, before Castro,

  or when mother was working downtown

  as a deskclerk at Sonnenfeld’s

  & on frozen winter nights

  we would fight like two vicious alley cats

  over who pulled the cover off of who

  afterwards, we would sleep side by side

  in the dark in our own spilt blood

  & if someone was ever foolish enough

  to mess with either one of us

  they had to contend with the both

  of us sho-nuff righteously stomping

  eleven thousand corns on their

  sorry asses

  but time has worn away those days

  as water rubs smooth, in time

  a rough & jagged stone

  you took the blues of those days

  filled with sun dues & blood & turned them

  into rhythms you played

  superbly on your talking drums

  before you heard the calling of your Lord sanctified

  eye took that beautiful song

  you gave to me & turned it into poetry

  this poem eye give to you now

  with a brother’s deep, love

  OLD BLACK LADIES ON BUS STOP CORNERS

  for my grandmother, Leona Smith

  Blue black and bow bent under beautiful

  Blue black and bow bent under beautiful

  Blue black and bow bent under beautiful

  & it never did matter

  whether the weather

  was flame tongue licked

  or as cold as a well digger’s asshole

  in late december when santa claus

  was working his cold money bullshit

  that made financiers grin

  all the way to secret bank vaults

  overflowing with marble eyes

  of third world children

  Blue black and bow bent under beautiful

  Blue black and bow bent under beautiful

  Blue black and bow bent under beautiful

  never did matter

  whether the days were storm raked

  with lightning streaked clouds

  tornados skipping crazy

  to their own savage beat

  shooting hailstone death

  at the skulled sunken eyes

  of tired old ladies

  tired old black ladies

  standing on bus stop corners

  pain wrapped as shawls around their necks

  Blue black and bow bent under beautiful

  Blue black and bow bent under beautiful

  Blue black and bow bent under beautiful

  & “Mama” it didn’t matter

  that pained scarred feet overworked

  numb legs bow bent under beautiful

  grew down out of old worn dresses

  seemingly fragile   gauntly skeletal frail

  as two old mop sticks   scarecrow legs

  didn’t matter because you stood there anyway

  defying nature’s chameleon weather—

  defying all reason

  stood there testifying over 400 years

  of madness & treason

  Blue black and bow bent under, beautiful

  no, it didn’t matter

  because the beauty of your heroic dimensions

  grown lovely in twisted swamps

  grown lovely from desolate land

  grown pure & full from wombs

  of concrete blood & bones

  of concrete blood & bones & death

  of death & sweat chained to breath

  didn’t matter dark proud flower

  scrubbed by age & cold & rain

  the foreign name given your father

  swaying body high up there in the burning breeze

  Blue black and bow bent under, beautiful

  because you stood there anyway

  unforgettably silent in your standing

  work scarred black lady

  numb legs & bow bent under beautiful

  stood there on pain scarred feet overworked

  numb legs and bow bent under beautiful

  under the image of your father

  swaying high up there in the burning breeze

  now sweet music   love sings calm

  soft beauty from your washed aging windows—

  giving us strength

  during the mad, bizarre days

  no, it didn’t matter

  whether the weather was flame tongue

  licked or as cold as a well digger’s asshole

  in late December

  because you stood there anyway

  in full bloom

  of your strength and rare beauty

  & we have learned to love your life

  & will vindicate the pain of your life

  the memory of your father

  who is also our great grandfather

  with the foreign name & who sways high up there over your legs

  blue black & bow bent under beautiful

  the weight of 400 years carried

  of blood and bones and death in mud

  of breath & sweat chained to death

  numb legs & bow bent under beautiful

  the image of your father swaying high

  up there in the burning breeze

  didn’t matter whether the weather was flame-tongue-licked

  or as cold as a well digger’s asshole in late december

  because you stood there anyway

  flowering in full beautiful

  & made us strong

  Blue black and bow bent under, beautiful

  Blue black and bow bent under, beautiful

  Blue black and bow bent under, beautiful

  RIVER RHYTHM TOWN

  River rhythm town

  under sun/moon laughter,

  river blues town filled

  with blues people

  doin’ blues dues thangs

  cycles of shinin’ laughter

  listenin’ to dues sounds, everyday

  of Chuck Berry   Miles Davis

  Little Richard   The Dells

  Thelonious Monk

  yardbird parker,

  & John Coltrane

  Walkin’ the hip walk

  wearin’ the hip new thangs

  laid off clean as a broke-dick dog

  in the cut,

  chasin’ hot black girls down

  rhythm & blues,

  doin’ the belly grind in corners

  of smoke filled red lighted

  funky parties

  music risin’ hot

  between cold funk

  of wall to wall

  partyin’ black shadows

  weavin’ spinnin’ dancin’

  drinkin’ in the beauty of sensuous

  black foxy ladies

  yeah!

  rubbin’ thrills against the pain