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JAMES BELFLOWER |
From JOHNNY CASH AT FOLSOM
gold
below
them
stones
that
rock n’ roll
Never been to prison of any kind, not maximum, minimum,
medium…any. I seen a lot uh movies: Birdman
of
history to
tape
shot
in
The pocking of a myth occurs: you and I crouch near the
corner stone. In this case native stone. Discussion: O’ what do you think? I
don’t know what do you think? We chatter away onto the stone. We speak around
it, partly because a structure now surrounds it. Voices ponder up the walls, in
the grout boundaries. The dead originary stone walks away inflected. Probably
north, since that is a heavenly direction. Thunderous P.A. announcements.
“7427
prison-
er
7427,
please…”
Personally, it is the simplicity of the supplication. Where
does this “please” fit? Yes, it contains some of the letters of ‘penitentiary,’
but bear in mind it contains just as many of the letters in ‘penthouse.’
Moreover, the location we are discussing probably contains many, many penthouses
of a sort. There are things happening within both, better left to the
electrified sound hole of wish.
yell
ow
yell real
low
Very true, otherwise they’ll hear ya'll.
I’dem
no
I’m not
A common feeling,
inside or out. It seems like the inside is usually what determines this. Many
times unknowingly. You lay out a pair of clothes. The next day another. Or you
don’t lay them out, you choose as you push your hand through the sleeve. Then
whether or not to button it, if it even has a colored button sewn somewhere
underneath your wrist, or between your breasts. What a coincidence. We came
tonight both dressed. To be together, forever.
Pepper
sprout
there
are
many strains of fever. The concern today is Avian Bird flu.
In a recent poem, I referred to the family as an aviary. No, the family photo
album as an aviary. Though rethinking it, it may slide between both. Don’t
mistake me, I don’t mean that they are like a plague. I was daydreaming of
trying to identify a
in a startled aviary. It is hot in here. "Can ya’ll believe this
yellow water. My hats off to you!”
“I’m
tawlkin’
with my
mouwth”
Yes, yes you are. Good, good, that’s our first lesson for
today.
Let the circle…be unbroken…by and by Lord, by and by…Let the
cleric…be unbroken…by and by Lord, by and by…Let the question…be horizon, baby
baby…baby, baby…let me suck…that microphone…let me guzzle
jump
Johnny
jump
up
M’s poem “Autobiography 15” also contains these three words,
and others. I though it an appropriate idem. M’s poem contains the word ‘idem’
also. I wonder if these words are similar? We might ask the root that controls
the chord spacing. Well, let me ask you, how many Johnny’s do you know now, as
opposed to 10 years ago or as opposed to the name John? The clerk asks her
where she got such a beautiful name: “From a baby book.”
just
regard
him
die
Let me ask you, if you had to sing the line this way, would
you? You are dressed in mostly black, (probably not your tightie-whities) and
implored to sing these lyrics with all the gusto you can muster. You’re in
mostly black. The stage lights are dim, you recognize your band members, though
never having met them. Someone you recognize for obvious reasons is poking her
head out from around the right hand side of the curtain. Someone yells your
name stretching the monosyllabic last name down a long ramp. You’re mostly in
black.
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