Blanche Bruce Does the Modernism
way way my spit slicked the sax’s brass chitlins. I said
mud dust and soil red rock. I said
blown in. let us go then let us go then. I said
tenements. I said
loams gypsum I said
be when I was there and what I made was it since it was where it was
wasn’t it I said.
there I said
and whaling till one was off the chain I said
gorilla suit for the mud to come on uh i uh ii uh iii ... uh cxvii and
took it to the bridge to throw down wet
a crop gainin on yuh in a gorilla suit I said.
my time and yours and the bandstand gardened out let us go then let
us go then and then we
Editor’s Note: This poem is part of a larger portfolio, “Freedom of Shadow: A Tribute to Terry Adkins.” The rest of the related work can be found in the September 2014 issue of Poetry.
Source: Poetry (September 2014).
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This poem originally appeared in the September 2014 issue of Poetry magazine
Poems by Douglas Kearney
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