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Dear Radiant Being.

I am writing to you by way of the earth. By way of the object, the sound, the thing. I am writing to you by way of reconfiguration. I am writing you by way of Geyser, by way of Smoke and of Water pouring from the ground. I am writing to you from the land of Burned Throats. I writing you from beneath Ground and also from above it.

I am not afraid. A cool wash has swept into my throat and brushed out all the burning. I have escaped Smoke and Water. Now placed at the mouth of Geyser. And no sound, only singular tones. Dark open tones. And then tiny waves sent spreading into the openness, sent out in black lines across the surface of the earth. Dark hair done into tight thin braids covering. Sending Water and Smoke to pour. Sending in its place holy Geysers. Sweeping out cool washes to brush out all the Burnings.

This is how any of us will learn. Only by way of the earth. Only by way of Geyser, by way of holy tones. Only in stuffing dark hair down into Burned Throats.

A formation of tiny dark waves meeting a formation of black lined hair.

A burned throat is only a place where fire used to be. It is a place which forced out Smoke and Water. A place of sending and black lines forming spreading from the fire of it.

I do not fear you, Radiant Being. I am only the exact equal of you, the complete proportion and sweep of you. You may touch me and kill me and so might I kiss you and sing you. So might I send out dark waves from my own mouth. So might I send you a small message, riding on the dark crest of them.

Radiant Being, I am not afraid of you but I do Fear you. Your collection of open tones and your broken claw passing over my face. I will lay still for you. I will only watch your black hoof hovering above me. I will lay still and I will watch you pass over my bed. And I will not speak when you brush with your wash all the small burning and dark hair from my throat.

IN YES,

b r o t h e r g h o s t

IT USED TO BE CALLED 2006

DO YOU REMEMBER 2006?

I BELIEVE I CALLED MY BODY 2006 IN 2006.

I BELIEVE I LIVED IN A TWO-BEDROOM FLAT IN 2006.

I BELIEVE I TOOK THE BUS TO WORK IN 2006.

I BELIEVE I TOOK THE BUS AND THEN THE METRO TO WORK IN 2006.

I BELIEVE THE ROUTE TO WORK WENT LIKE THIS IN 2006:

FIRST I TOOK THE BUS AT THE STOP NAMED 'U PAMATNIKU',

THEN I RODE THE BUS TO THE RED LINE METRO STATION 'FLORENC',

THEN I TOOK THE METRO TO 'HLAVNI NADRAZI',

THEN I WALKED THROUGH THE PARK WITH GYPSIES SLEEPING,

THEN I WENT UP IN A GLASS ELEVATOR,

THEN I WAS AT WORK

IN 2006


NOW IT IS 2011.

I DO NOT RIDE A BUS OR METRO TO WORK IN 2011.

I WORK AT A CO-OP GROCERY STORE.

SOMETIMES I WALK THERE.

I AM A CASHIER.

I STAND IN A PLACE WHERE PEOPLE COME TO TALK TO ME.

I ASK THEM HOW THEY ARE FEELING TODAY.

I ASK THEM FOR MONEY AND THEN I ASK THEM TO LEAVE.

EVERY DAY I HAVE A 30-MINUTE BREAK.

GOING UPSTAIRS TO THE BREAK ROOM

I IMAGINE MY BODY ENCASED IN GLASS

RISING LIKE AN ELEVATOR TO ANOTHER PLACE

I IMAGINE MY BODY IN 2006.

GRACELAND

Dear C--

The Mississippi Delta was shining like a national guitar. I was following the river down the highway through the cradle of the Civil War. I was going to Graceland which is in Memphis, Tennessee. There seemed to be a great number of people headed there: poorboys, pilgrims, and families. I felt good to be headed there with my traveling companion, Harper. Nine years old and the child of my first marriage. It felt good to be headed to a place named Graceland.

I thought of her as I drove. Harper's mother. She stopped by the other day. She wanted to tell me she was gone. She said it as if I didn't know it, as if I hadn't been sleeping alone in our bed. Seeing her reminded me how I miss the little things; like watching her wipe her hair from her forehead. She said something about how losing love is like a window to your heart. Everyone could see all the shit inside. I was difficult to be around. Blowing out a lot of cold wind.

But there I was. Going to Graceland. And it felt good to come back to that thought. I was headed to a place named Graceland and so were a lot of other people. It felt good. I was on my way and soon I would be there. I can't really explain it.

Love,

Paul Simon

COLORED COLORS

a color the color of colored colors

i do not trust a person with dark-colored hair and eyes the color of colored colors

cold feet turn a color colored blue

i do not trust a person with dark-colored eyes and feet the color of colored blues

a loud drunk color

a stupid loud drunk color