Beulah, peel me
a grape...

I hear Van Bryck-Hedd's
buyin' property
on the Hill

...devil's?mother's?whose
back?break
whose?step on a
crackbreakdevil's?
mother's?makes a difference

The Wise Ole Radical says
AnymoreI'm about as much
interested in Individualism
as I am in gettin'
hit by a truck!

Up along the river
there's MARIE'S
PRODUCE • TRAILERS

Van Bryck-Hedd is a handsome cuss
proud of his profile
It's always from his left side
that he looks you
in the eye

That balcony on the Hill
casts a shadow
like the moon's

...devil's?mother's?remember
whose!or make
up your mind!make
your stepyour wayyour
awkward dance

PROVIDE!PROVIDE!

Grandpa always said
Get lots
while you're young!

Out-of-state plate
on 28th St.
2 p.m.fenders
gleam, too hot
to touch

The river down the valley
rose up so
it took the used cars off the lots

Beulah,
peel me...

Back in the hometown again
gliding along Maple
or is it West Main?
Stopping before the drugstore's window
or is it the hotel's?

Van Bryck-Hedd's got that knack
of always spittin' with the wind

This little piggy
freed the market
so this
little worker
lost his home

PROVIDE!PROVIDE!
CONTRIVE!CONTRIVE!

Get
lots while
you're young

On display in that dream-window
from the attic of someone
long gone
a photo of the bearded ones
the town fathers

By suppertimetemper
evensthe metal bears
marks
of loitering hands
and rumps

This little piggy
cornered roastbeef
so this
little family
had none

...step on a crackor
don'tbut step
alongmake
your awkward dance
in this new city

On that balconyabove its shadow
a woman in a creamy morning gown
lays her arms upon a glass table
Her right hand rests upon an orange
perfectly ripeawash in light

Van Bryck-Hedd kindly
asks you to bring
only your profile too
He speaks so patiently
his words are few

The Wise Ole Radical says
I've begun to wonder
what Emerson's wife
really thought about
that Self-Reliance shit

At night the ill-lit street
dissolvesThe Buick's owner
squints through window-slats
Past dawn that fool will find seats
slashedengine scattered on the curb

PROVIDE!PROVIDE!
FREE RIDE!FREE RIDE!

And this little piggy lied
WEWEWEALL THE WAY!
in his speechesin his columnsin his home
in his mirrorsin his cups
and even in his pomes

The flood took all the trailers off the flats
and broke the gas lines
Half of Main St. burned

She doesn't raise her handbut traces
with her fingertipsover the orange's skin
gentle circlesfor hours caresses
that plumpness as she gazes
at shreds of clouds above the City

...in the new cityalong
the dark streetun-
coiled in front of
youmake your awkward danceuntil
you make one firm friend

The Wise Ole Radical says
Hellpoetry's always
a matter
of spittin' into
the prevailin' wind!

PROVIDE!PROVIDE!
FAR WIDE!FAR WIDE!

In the dream-photohalf of them or so
identifiedthe great grandfather
of someonegreat uncles
of the very old
or recent dead

Now she wears a golden gown
the sun a white-hot rivet overhead
She lifts the fruitso ripe she uses
only her index finger's nail to slice
and flick patches of its skin away

When Dad heard I was going to live
in Lester's mobile home he said
PerfectYou'll live in a box
sleep on onecook on oneand
watch Lester watch oneall day long

Van Bryck-Hedd's home sits high
in the City on the Hill
His house was built with words
Van Bryck-Hedd's words
are his love for you

There is a world where you can
find your bearings
only by shredding maps
then placing the pieces
over your eyes

PROVIDE!PROVIDE!
REVISE!REVISE!

Suddenly a bearded father leans
toward his neighborand moves
his mouth soundlessly
They all begin to stir and shiftsome angry
some scuffing shoes on the ground

Now she sits in her light-blue evening gown
She holds the raw weeping pulp
up against
the fire-red sky's
tatters of flames

Grandpa rode the union rails
for the Delaware and Hudson
Told us being a brakeman meant
someday he'd break
his goddamn neck

Blooms of forsythia crowd and crown
our discontent
A hair that teases
the back of the throat
our memory of an ancient violence

Van Bryck-Hedd knows what's best
for youProfile
to profile
he speaks
slowlypatiently

The eternal shuttlecock
arches across dusk-pink sky
When it's hit it says
pittpittFlying
it saysnothing

Their bearded faces brighten
They start to change positions
some sly game to make
the names penned below the photo
no longer match their human forms

And one day Grandpa got swayed
right off the top
of a coal car
Engineer and fireman both
saw him go

Spring is only a contract's term
a nifty hard negotiation done
by someone big

The grass behind the trailer's so high
when Lester walks the dog
back to the pond
all I see's the tops
of stalks waving their way

The Wise Ole Radical says
I'm an old
fart now
I just wanna be
one of you guys!

The Ghost of Banquet
walks along the suburb's streets
whispers across the City's alley-puddles

Train screeched in
at the depot
two miles down the line
Sent a handcar back to find
Grandpa's corpse

But hellwe dance
the season anyway
jig through the new
field-slapclap
hands and thighs

Then just as suddenly the fathers
freezeeach one out
of positionYet
there is a movementtheir beards
growing like masses of vines

And yesyou'll love
Van-Bryck Hedd too
He'll become
the desire
of his victims

The zenith of each
lobbed
shuttlecock marks
the edge
of a circular universe

...............

That night I was already sleeping
when Lester and the dog got back
Three in the morning
I'm stung and itched awake
by about a thousand ticks

Beards growing like vines
clutchingsnaggingobliterating
facesbodiessky
the whole space
blotting black

...............

Only
by shredding maps

Through flames and soot-blacked backing
of his fireplace Van Bryck-Hedd sees
bones stretched out
in way-stations
in scorched arroyos

This Ghost wears fear and crumb-confetti
It's moved by cords
forged from luxurystrings
that nearly lift the Ghost from contact
with earthto drift among the rags of clouds

Gowned in scarlet she places
the orange amid its yellowing
scatters of skin
scabrousdryand whole
out there in the balcony's deepening dark

The whole space blotting blackbut then
so slowly coming clear once more
And cleared of any bodyface
only the sky remaining
only the old land

Place the
pieces
over your eyes

The tub's the thing in the trailer
that seems the normal size
After the ticks I lay there in water
hot as I could stand
and watched the steam rise

The big rigs fuel up early
For miles in the last of the dark
you can hear
the engines revand then the slow
grind up the hill

Halfway there they spotted
Grandpa hoofing it
fast along the tracks
Said he'd landed cat-on-his-feet
in a bed of ferns

But hellwe dance it!
When the best is spoiled or snaked away
we come to love what's left

The Ghost will do anything
to staywill enter
bone marrowand other
soulsespecially those whose bones
have already turned to light

Only the skyonly the old land
land of the ancient bear and ancient fox
And on that primeval ground something shining
but already always oldalready always cracked
only a black lensed box

Each night Van Bryck-Hedd
wraps himself around a warmth
And therebeyond the fire
beyond the bonesa companion
stands his watch

I watched the steam
rise off my flesh and thought
I'm Cain's offering

Stare into memory's
broken eye

Grandpa told us Changed my lifeyes sir
From that day on
I cast my vote
for Eugene V. friggin' Debs
every time he ran!

The cold cold comfort that we keep
is pure at least
And from the celebration
from the feast
we wrap around it in our sleep

The companion stands his watch
his foot upon
a yet unopened strongbox

...pitt...pitt

I'm Cain's offering
Yet there was peace
a small peace

Stare into history's
broken
eye

A foot upon the strongbox
he gazes tranquilly
out into blackness

...............

A small peace up there
right beneath
the ceiling

...............

Into the blackness of the desert
they'll continue to cross
tomorrowat dawn

And I rose up in the steam
to meet the small peace
in that high and lonely light

The big rigs groan
for the City on the Hill
then slide
on pastdown
through democracy's air