I Say We Out of Some Need
The old Cuban song was called “Patricia”
And I took a moment to pick up
A dirty shoe and ruffle up a young dog’s
Somewhat thick head thick like mine
No joke a palpable twang I can
Bite into resonated across the planks
Of yellow pine a wood not found
Around here anymore and what else
Is new perhaps I could phone in my bit
From a doghouse on the third ring of
Why not Saturn where things are very
Loud right now or drop dead calm
Sun Ra on his winged chair started out
From Alabama the place the stars fell on
And said Herman’s from here not me
Between Wars
I left by night on foot without
A word. Downtown was
Where her people were. I
Heard directions and forgot
And tilted toward an urban
Hum backlighting a distance
Of trees. Montreal was where
Night ends, her people said,
Bedtimes when she was a girl.
I don’t know where it was
She was such a girl. A very
Polite place, I had to guess,
With exits clearly marked.
A market was never far from
Any spot where she needed to be,
Her people said, each dawn
When she rose. Like a rose,
Her people said, in full fire.
Hat & Coat
The people needed to feel safe where
they were.
They needed to be where they were to
feel safe.
They needed to know where they
were
Was where they were even if where
they were
Wasn’t safe as long as they were
where they were.
The place had to be where they knew
they could be
Who they were, or someone else who
they could be
There with, and that would make it safe
for them to know
Where they were was a place where
they could be.
Where they were could be where they
used to be
Or where they were going or where they
thought they ought
To be. To be where they were was where
they could take
What they left behind. What they left behind
was the safety
Of knowing where they were when they had to
be where they
Were likely to be next. They drove out
a little further
Than where they’d ever been before. They
turned up
A driveway. What followed was a guess
anybody
Where they were would hazard to make.
The numbers were
Ever greater, ever a hazard to the safety
the numbers
Produced. Where the numbers gathered
density accrued,
A cloud of certainty lifting where they were
to where they were
In the crisis following. The crisis at best
was a guess
Second-guessed by numbers bearing them
safely to where
They were. Where they were would gauge
where they’d been
And was a good story, were it ever told.
Where they were,
Were it told, would be a place of safety and
number, a threshold
Of zeroes, a planet, where it ever would
be likely to be.
