DOWNIE
THE DAY GORD DOWNIE DIED
All the young hipsters so beautiful and free? Buying
their coffee at Balzacs All duded up Stylized snapshot
of urbanity Bye Bye Gord Downie probably not their
poet anyway Don’t tell me what Atticus is doing
This morning on the phone a friend I’ve known forever
said: My funeral guy.. I actually have a funeral guy! 3
members of her family have died since last July Father
Husband Brother We talked long +loose about ashes +
survivor’s guilt
She is the last woman standing Estranged from her junkie
brother whose ashes will remain with funeral guy On the
shelf where he keeps: un-claimed sisters dogs +infant skulls
Ready to transmute into the next: Bowie Downie +The Artist
Formerly Known as Prince
So if your ashes remain un-claimed have you really lived? Or
is your death rattle: an unheard cry for meaning? No bereft
shining granddaughter to visit your town in Romania Trying to
come to grips with the madness of ovens It is a bit like the tree
falling in the forest question
If one is pushed bullet riddled into an unmarked grave of 100,000
strong at Babi Yar does it make a sound? While we don’t recommend
you go around believing in: Never Again We do recommend that to
one child at a time you recount the history of gassed +un-gassed family
Especially of those un-claimed
The ashes on funeral guy’s shelf mixing with dust +mouse belong to
a human being He who had such promise at birth that upon his death
the angels lined up to rent clouds of glory +howl Kaddish at any Gods
within a 5 mile radius
__
Strange to think of you, gone..
While I walk the sunny pavement of Greenwich Village..
And I’ve been up all night reading the Kaddish aloud..
Dreaming back thru life, your time and mine accelerating
toward Apocalypse.. (Allen Ginsberg Kaddish 1959)
Fall 2017 RIP Gord Downie
songanddancegirl 