Thursday, April 03, 2008

040308 30something/30 To The Residents

To the Residents of 318 Whitehorse Road,
©2008 by Raymond Daniel Medina

As it happened, Lexington lay directly
between Savannah and Asheville.
We saw in that a chance to visit
a childhood decades gone. I showed her my magic,
opening the car window as the song of cicadas
spilled from my mouth. An invitation to dance
with borrowing lungs the sweet humidity
of the Carolina pines.

We stopped for food and directions. A man dusty
with the day's work took in our story
with a thrill at the task. Called his friend at the
Firehouse
to direct us. A confirmation of Southern hospitality.

An exception I wanted to remember from
a childhood consistently betrayed.

As we pulled up across the street, the last film of
dusk
receded, leaving us in milky darkness. Me talking to
my aunt in Asheville.
She waiting patient, peaceful. Your dogs barking the
soundtrack
to a movie credited by our arrival. You and your wife
appeared
in bedclothes, gray hair mussed. Too much of
yourselves exposed,
you climbed the only fence on the block to find out
what we were doing there.

What ch'all doin' here?
Did ya car break down?
Are y'all lost?
Did y'all need directions somewhere?
I'd be happy ta help.
'Jdya come here ta talk onna phone?
Just want ta know what y'all're doin here's all.
So ya not lawst?
Don't need nothin'?
Just. . .sittin' here?
Y'all're just gonna sit here?
Don't worry, I'm not the law.
Just wonderin' what yer doin' here.
Just want ta make sure y'all don't need nothin'.
Sure I can't get y'all somethin' – a mountain dew,
a sprite, some gas – just. . .wonderin'
What - the - fuck - are – y'all – doin' - here?

As if it were scripted, the sound of a car's idling
engine
had awoken a thing in you that sleeps most days.
Somewhere in your small fenced-in mind
you forgot you were talking to your masters.
That southern gentility calls for respect, or at least
manners.
That Christ-loving folk owe the same debt of
compassion
your bumper stickers demand. That we were the only
chance
you'll ever have to eat your daily bread. You forgot
your life
is a car stopped outside our house.

Your wife told us this was the reason you kept guard
dogs.
I looked at the two small fluffy white things barking
in the pen in the pen of your yard. Smirked at the
country suburbs
where brick's replaced by gate. Agreed they looked
particularly
vicious. She told me if she let them loose they'd eat
me alive.
I thought of Roots and Kunta Kinte
and instead of German Shepherds
or Rhodesian Ridgebacks,
your tiny-fanged terriers yipping at my feet.

I thought of saying more as you both snickered
and heeled your way home having lost the trail
but wanting to walk in the way
of the man my momma raised me to,
I told you we'd be fifteen minutes
and wished you a good night.

And, well, this is an elaboration of that –

to wish you a good night
should you choose
to continue to sleep
through the decades of days
that invite you to walk
in a world where you're not
the only one who's upset
the neighborhood has gone
to the dogs.

____________________________________________________________________________________
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Thursday, April 20, 2006

042006 Subterannean Homesick Alien

The breath of the morningI keep forgettingThe smell of the warm summer airI live in a town where you can't smell a thingYou watch your feet for cracks in the pavementUp above, aliens hoverMaking home moviesFor the folks back homeOf all these weird creatures who lock up their spiritsDrill holes in themselvesAnd live for their secretsThey're all uptight, uptightUptight, uptightUptight, uptightI wish that they'd swoop down in a country laneLate at night when I'm drivingTake me on board their beautiful shipShow me the world as I'd love to see itI'd tell all my friends but they'd never believe meThey'd think that I'd finally lost it completelyI'd show them the stars and the meaning of lifeThey'd shut me awayBut I'd be alright, alrightI'm alrightI'm alrightI'm just uptight, uptightUptight, uptightUptight, uptightUptight, uptightUptight

042006

seldom planned, usually inspired

Thursday, March 30, 2006

Song by Superchunk

Art Class (song for Yayoi Kusama)

here we go in spurts
the colors nearly burst
and you may notice a shaking in your eye
metaphors the worst
but are you being driven or do you drive?
on a trip between two points in your infinity net
obliterate yourself from the scene but please do not forget
cover me with spots - black and red dots
until i'm crowding up your visual field
bare assed and beautiful you're climbing on your art like a shield
now i want - i say sang - i do
everybody dance now

welcome to art class
forget your acid-free paper and glass
welcome to art class
be a bride stripped bare of the past

why so serious?
why so serious when it's only your life thats at stake
why so serious
when your life is the art that you make
life is the art that you make

sell anything you want
but it's worth no more and no less than a kiss
try not to represent even that
cuz this moment is all that it is
in a garden of glass theres a red plastic tree
so shit in a can but your art is not free

i sang - i want - i do
and everybody dances with me

welcome to art class
and yes it does involve shaking your ass
welcome to art class
always keep your face to the glass

why so serious?
why so serious - when it's only your life thats at stake
why so serious - when your life is the art that you make
life is the art that you make

why so serious?

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Song I like

Been listening to the following album and song lately.

album: If You're Feeling Sinister (1996)
by Belle & Sebastian

Get Me Away From Here I'm Dying

Ooh! Get me away from here I'm dying
Play me a song to set me free
Nobody writes them like they used to
So it may as well be me
Here on my own now after hours
Here on my own now on a bus
Think of it this way
You could either be successful or be us
With our winning smiles, and us
With our catchy tunes, and us
Now we're photogenic
You know, we don't stand a chance

Oh, I'll settle down with some old story
About a boy who's just like me
Thought there was love in everything and everyone
You're so naive!
They always reach a sorry ending
They always get it in the end.
Still it was worth it as I turned the pages solemnly, and then
With a winning smile, the boy
With naivety succeeds
At the final moment, I cried
I always cry at endings

Oh, that wasn't what I meant to say at all
From where I'm sitting, rain
Falling against the lonely tenement
Has set my mind to wander
Into the windows of my lovers
They never know unless I write
"This is no declaration, I just thought I'd let you know goodbye"
Said the hero in the story
"It is mightier than swords
I could kill you sure
But I could only make you cry with these words"
get me away i'm dying

Friday, March 17, 2006

Love

Speaking of love, you heard
the absence of my listening
and answered it with silence.
I will make you fall in love
so I can help you see
you do not need
me to be there.

Tuesday, February 28, 2006

As Needed

You give me what you most want;

Ask how I should be touched.

Curled up on the floor.

Fingering a puzzling me..

Thirsty with concentration.

On the border, looking for edges

among jagged silhouettes,

sitting center,

forgotten,

holding nameless pieces.

Turning them over.

Impatient.

Beyond the ache of words,

and the match of their choosing

which love and how?

Tired of wondering.

As much one or the other.

Mistaking love for love and found for mystery.

Nestled in, with quick hands, an urgent mind,

and a heart that misses how hunches used to feel.

Answering myself.

Locked in arms and lips and promises.

Thoroughly.

Doubt-strong.

Faithful.

Hungrily.

By a deep reaching into my chest;

a needed moment of knowing.

Like each moment of knowing!

With the tenderness of that final piece.

I’d want to be touched like that.

In Answer to Scot Who Asked How the Relationship Thing Was Going

I think we’re gonna push it to the top of the hill;

nudge it over the edge and see if it starts up again.

If it doesn’t, I guess we’ll just crash it

into something soft and leave it there.

Friday, November 11, 2005

110905 Rule to Live By

Take it as it comes.