|
they
make a wall against armageddon
By Bro. Yao
they
was talk’n all night long
tell’n
ole stories, evaporatin
sweat.
liquor. laugh
painting
the face of their mother
between
them, gospel
crisp
and old
all
the action in a straightjacket
in
that room, old brother cain,
old
sin, the black work, shame,
reworked
into art, strung story
history
my
father and his brothers
men
growing fat and tired
their
walk becoming slow and certain
like
the train long snake of freight
engine
inertia
bet you wouldn’t
know
when they was young
big fun
sometimes
the eldest would get the car
and
drive into town slow
whitewalls
and pants creased
to
pick up his date-a woman
so
beautiful
you
would swear
someone was
crying in the distance
when you saw her or her shoulders
bare in the sun
life
would mean something then
there
was more to philosophy
than
how to make it look like your sweat
was
work and not the sun staring
down on your back
hot
grease of Georgia
find
itself on a brother’s back
at
any time
muscle could
explode
whole
world could suddenly change
and
you could afford to smile
anywhere, anytime
anyday, anything
can happen
you
could get stung by a bee
or
find yourself on the edge
of
the road, jacking
up
the car, somebody could
ask
you why in the cold, spotlight
why,
fog breathe into the night.
the
possibilities are endless, why
you
could be kissed by a billyclub
or
asked where the fuck are you going?
even when
you are right
even when
you are right where you are sposed to be
this
is what my uncles and daddy
knew
inside
as
they laughed
and
turned their breathe
into
the brewery
and
their eyes got glossy
and they drank some more*
* * * * |
