DEAD
CARNY BARKER OF THE DEAD
I will soon be asked to speak on the subject
of a local psychic She who traffics in false hope
The shadow side of holy A dark art to be sure
She knows not what she does Perhaps well intentioned
trimming her hemlock +shrubbery Perhaps a lover of
taxidermy
We sapient apes have been consulting oracles since the
beginning of time Since the day on the savannah when
a greying ape lay down They poked + prodded but it did
not rise Soon maggoty silence Bones cleaned of sinew
With this they knew long before the apple+the snake Forever
creatures unto death Crouched in fear of the insatiable God
of the Mystery They howled like dogs into the wind All art a big
SOS We are here Rescue us Resurrect the dead We’ll give
you our firstborn son Flay the skin Pots of gold Old ceremonies
bestowed immortality upon the few
A fisherman A boy by a Bodhi tree But no such opiate for you+me
What makes us vulnerable to the dark artist? to exploitation? to abuse?
All sorcerers are intuitives highly skilled observers and so are most
pedophiles I don’t need a medium to lead me to my father’s voice It’s
in my DNA Love is the glue the grail It fills the chalice and makes him
ride again
__
His eyes were very blue and very beautiful half hid away
in the leathery seams of his face. As if there were something
there that the hardness of the country had not been able to touch.
(The Crossing Cormac McCarthy 1995)
songanddancegirl 