Below these bluffs
After Elizabeth Treadwell
For Jackson, born 02/05/07
i.
a small boy / a mirror
I have made him / so
his need for me / though
I am broken/ unmended
through multiple reflections
a generation / a tick
ii.
Here below these bluffs the fatal river flows
cotton people unknown barges resilient tugs
brown on brown on white on brown
the alien landscape sticks in the yellow oak
water urging swallowing delivering taking
in tides mud marking unmapping
I’m goin’ down to the river
Take along my rocking chair,
And if the blues don’t leave me,
I’ll rock on away from there.
iii.
:For he would not be Stagolee
Though he was born by the Mississippi, Lord, Lord
They shot that poor man to death.
:For he would not be Po’ Lazarus
For the high sheriff shot Lazarus with a mighty big number, Lord, Lord
He shot him with a forty five.
:For he would not be John Henry
For John Henry hammered his poor heart to death, Lord, Lord,
He hammered his poor heart to death.
iv.
the railroad goes through our town, oh
the railroad goes through our town
the cars are carrying coal, oh
the cars are carrying coal
we think of the men below, oh
we think of the men below
here in our 21st century
v.
bright year
constellates a scorched cry
mother/rage and mother/love
nesting his magic
we dwell in our unseen sameness
a small boy / a mirror
I have made him / so
his need for me / though
I am broken/ unmended
through multiple reflections
a generation / a tick
ii.
Here below these bluffs the fatal river flows
cotton people unknown barges resilient tugs
brown on brown on white on brown
the alien landscape sticks in the yellow oak
water urging swallowing delivering taking
in tides mud marking unmapping
I’m goin’ down to the river
Take along my rocking chair,
And if the blues don’t leave me,
I’ll rock on away from there.
iii.
:For he would not be Stagolee
Though he was born by the Mississippi, Lord, Lord
They shot that poor man to death.
:For he would not be Po’ Lazarus
For the high sheriff shot Lazarus with a mighty big number, Lord, Lord
He shot him with a forty five.
:For he would not be John Henry
For John Henry hammered his poor heart to death, Lord, Lord,
He hammered his poor heart to death.
iv.
the railroad goes through our town, oh
the railroad goes through our town
the cars are carrying coal, oh
the cars are carrying coal
we think of the men below, oh
we think of the men below
here in our 21st century
v.
bright year
constellates a scorched cry
mother/rage and mother/love
nesting his magic
we dwell in our unseen sameness