Notes

July 19, 2010
This entry is part 20 of 21 in the series Banjo Poems

How many notes to self can you make?
A road nobody drives for pleasure.
Scan the dial for something
sung in drawl. Get out & walk.

The older you get, the fewer options
still tempt you. It may come down
to the wet & shining membranes
through which we taste & see
versus the ear’s dry drum.
Coins in a fountain versus coins in a jar.

This is why if you want to listen
you find a desert, even if it’s as small
as the head of a banjo. You take notes
knowing you’ll never read them.
Don’t try to explain.
This isn’t that kind of trip.

Posted in Poems & poem-like things | 4 Comments

Banjo Origins 2: Jesusland

March 30, 2010
This entry is part 19 of 21 in the series Banjo Poems

A child spotted it tangled in the branches of a tree like a lost kite. In fact, it might have been a lost kite, or perhaps an insufficiently aerodynamic helicopter, or the mummified body of a space alien. The fire department sent a ladder truck to get it down.

What was it? It twanged alarmingly when touched, and this led someone to suggest it might be able to generate healing vibrations. A preacher was sent for.

It had ten strings then, but after careful study, the preacher decided that this was against nature, and ordered half of them removed. After that it never flew again, although it did travel around the desert with a caravan for a few years, following the Grateful Dead.

When it came back, it went down to the shore & began to gather an entourage. Things got crazy. A pig farmer accused it of drowning his whole herd. It got thrown out of the church for busking. A man came back from the dead, but he was never quite right again.

It became clear that just getting within earshot of this thing was dangerous. People were cured of conditions they didn’t even know they had, such as separation anxiety, agoraphobia & intermittent explosive disorder. The doctors & therapists began to feel threatened, so they got together & bribed a member of its entourage to call Homeland Security and denounce it as a terrorist.

An agent came out, took one look & laughed. You people need to get up into the mountains more often, he said. Where I come from, every backyard has a banjo tree.

Posted in Humor, Poems & poem-like things | Tagged | 2 Comments

Sugar Baby

March 19, 2010
This entry is part 18 of 21 in the series Banjo Poems

I had total recall. I was
loitering at a Village Square
on the outskirts of town,
replaying Dock Boggs’
“Sugar Baby” in my head
note for note as I heard it
the first time, before I knew
what was coming next —
the red rocking chair,
the every dime.
Streetlights flickered on,
& they were a new kind
of streetlight that turned people
transparent, like ghosts
as they hurried from car
to store & store to car.
Every third person
was talking to someone
in their hand, saying
I’m in the parking lot &
Do you want the white
rice or the fried?
There were those who said honey
& those who said sugar —
something sticky
to keep solitude at bay.
I began wishing
I’d heard the song
from the master himself
so I could taste it too,
raw & undistilled.
I wouldn’t have to take
rides in cop cars.
My feet would have
an understanding
with the road.

Posted in Poems & poem-like things | Leave a comment

The Silent Banjo

March 12, 2010
This entry is part 17 of 21 in the series Banjo Poems

The silent banjo leans against the wall
like a movie gangster, casual, coiled,
ready for some chin music.

The silent banjo may or may not
be in tune — & in what tuning, who knows?
To some, this makes it alluring.
Its neck is straight, like a mute swan
culled by a marksman.

The silent banjo is silent because
it has seen too much.

The silent banjo is silent because
no one remembers how to listen.

Approach the silent banjo as you would
any other apocryphon:
brandishing the one true book of matches
& saying in your best Hollywood voice,
The jig is up.

Posted in Poems & poem-like things | Tagged | 2 Comments

A Spell to Ward Off Banjos

March 2, 2010
This entry is part 16 of 21 in the series Banjo Poems

Fill a soup spoon with salt
& lower it into the Atlantic
singing: Dance, sailor,
dance with your captain,
your head’s too heavy,
your body’s too thin.
When the salt is gone
say in a loud voice:
Are you thirsty now?
& wait for a gull to say Yes.
Walk backwards so
the incoming tide can’t follow
your footsteps home.

Repeat daily.
If symptoms persist,
see a licensed magician.

Posted in Poems & poem-like things | Tagged | 10 Comments

Banjo Proverbs

February 24, 2010
This entry is part 15 of 21 in the series Banjo Poems

A banjo is clamorous:
it is simple, & knows nothing.

Banjos make a mock at sin,
but among the righteous there is favor.

It is sport to a banjo to do mischief,
but a man of understanding has wisdom.

He that begets a banjo does so to his sorrow,
& the father of a banjo has no joy.

He that troubles his own house shall inherit the wind,
& the banjo shall be servant to the wise of heart.

As snow in summer & as rain in harvest,
so honor & a banjo don’t mix.

A dream comes from a crowd of troubles
& a banjo’s melody comes from a crowd of notes.

For as the crackling of thorns under a pot,
so is the music of the banjo.

A banjo’s strings enter into contention
& its head invites a beating.

A stone is heavy, a sandbag strains your arms,
but a banjo’s wrath is heavier than them both.

It is better to hear the rebuke of the wise
than for a man to hear the music of banjos.

Go from the presence of a banjo
when you perceive not the notes of knowledge in it.

As a dog returns to his vomit,
so a banjo player returns to his banjo.

Forsake the banjo & live,
& go in the way of understanding.

Posted in Greatest Hits, Poems & poem-like things | Tagged | 13 Comments

Luck (2)

February 18, 2010
This entry is part 14 of 21 in the series Banjo Poems

This is the story
of the banjo jubilee:
the pregnant woman
lays her hand on a banjo
for good luck.
The burglar flees
at the sight of a banjo
over his left shoulder.
A dog sees a banjo
go yellow in alpenglow
& begins to howl.

The coyotes answer
with a yip & a yelp
& an ai-ai-ai.
The locksmith pauses
to listen on his way
to the music store.
Just then
the baby kicks
& she jerks her hand back.
It will be a girl
at first, & later
a girl who plays banjo.
There are so many ways
to be lucky
& all of them are round.

Posted in Poems & poem-like things | 3 Comments

Scruggs Style

February 9, 2010
This entry is part 13 of 21 in the series Banjo Poems

Our only god the clock
has the face of a banjo
& three efficient fingers.
On the weekends we get
behind its wheel & go.
Drunk & loud, you want
everything to clatter apart
at once: breakdown! But
we’re out of the mountains,
so it’s full speed ahead,
boys — rewind & play.
When Earl says the word,
the snow will return to the sky.

Posted in Books and Music, Poems & poem-like things | Tagged | 2 Comments

Medicine Show (3)

February 3, 2010
This entry is part 13 of 21 in the series Banjo Poems

The banjo knows
what it’s like to be sky,
how high pressure brings
the clearest sound.
I read about a woman
without a vaginal opening
who still conceived
& gave birth through a Caesarian.
This is more or less
how a banjo makes music,
isn’t it? She had lovers,
oh yes! And one of them,
jealous, had stabbed her
in the stomach,
permitting his rival’s semen,
which she had taken orally,
to find & fertilize
her unsuspected egg.
Maybe this is
an urban legend but
it sounds like something
that ought to happen
in a world with banjos in it.
Who needs roots?
The medicine show barker
would prescribe the same
white pill for everything —
a round
& chewable eraser.

Posted in Poems & poem-like things | Tagged | 2 Comments

Luck

January 31, 2010
This entry is part 12 of 21 in the series Banjo Poems

Saved by a banjo, she turned
into someone forever glancing
in the rear-view mirror,
someone given to sudden,
unpredictable attacks of laughter.
The amount of space
her arms now claimed with
their emphatic gesticulations
alarmed even herself:
how unladylike!
She stopped smoking & enrolled
in truck-driving school
because, she said, she didn’t
ever want to slow down.
She’d pull into rest areas
on the high plains & listen
to the non-stop wind.

Posted in Poems & poem-like things | Tagged | 4 Comments
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