And now the good day has gone around
To somewhere near New Zealand,
(Which is all the better, for I hear they are in
Deep need of good days)
And the “goodnights” have come
And gone to bed with yawning lips,
And the empty loom is stocked with threads
To weave new dreams, good and bad.

Now I nestle in with pillows
And ice for one of my Icarus burns.
It is hard to express why the sun still
Shines in my chest, warms my shirts,
Smiles against my breast like a robin’s
Breast smiles gratefully back to the sun.

Today was a good day,
And tonight is good,
And the stars have not forgotten me,
Nor the moon turned her face away
In one of our play fights,
So I cannot help but fill with warmth,
Though our bright conductor has marched off.

I’m still humming yesterday’s song -
Which is like the call of a mockingbird,
A little bit borrowed, a bit absurd,
But after a long good day, I find
That I cannot say with my words
What is best expressed by birds.

When we came laughing back
From our romp in the waves
And our mothers beckoned
To the pink sand in the setting sun,
It followed us to shore.

It looked like us and smelled like us,
But spoke some other tongue.
We were loathe to trust It at once,
But the adults said “everyone gets a chance”
So we gave It one.

It wasn’t so bad to start,
It learned our language and told us
Things about the deep from whence It came,
But sometimes It burbled and choked,
And we didn’t let It play with us those days.

Then, one quiet morning,
While the birds were silent and nested,
The fog came rolling off the banks
Thicker and darker than ever before.
Our papas were late for work and
Cars crashed on the interstate.

Weeks went by and it didn’t dissipate.
People were frightened and worried.
Anxiousness colored actions and faces,
(But you couldn’t see faces in the fog anyway.)

It was like a flock of birds, what happened next.
Like a quiet flock, when one bird calls
And others take up the cry, and soon
The sky is full of wheeling, screaming gulls.

Old Jerry said, “That thing’s the reason
We’re stumbling around as blind as moles.”
Everyone knew what he meant.
Everyone made sure to show dissent,
But the cry whispered in their scared souls.
(It is hard to know that you are blind
And think that it is no one’s fault.)

For a month or so, nothing was done.
Maybe we shunned the thing a little more,
Maybe It took to playing out by the shore,
(Doing the devil’s work, some said)
But nothing happened. (We didn’t understand It,
So we were distant; we were afraid.)

Then, like all fear, we conquered It.
We drove It to the shore. (In a car, of course.)
And told It to go home. It refused.
It gurgled that It had been sent as some sort
Of ambassador. So, we did the only
Reasonable thing, and killed It.

The fog faded immediately, and we could see
(Rising out of the ocean with bright
Welcome banners affixed and all festooned
With streamers and balloons) several
Enormous ships. It must have liked us.
The End.

P.S.
They burned our city to the ground.
All our homes and yards, our dogs and our
Compact cars, they cracked up the interstate
And flooded the basements. All the silk ties burned up.
Then, at the end of their wrath,
Shaking with rage, they took one child -
Someone’s brother - down with them into the sea.

(The nights after were filled with the most
Mournful and terrifying songs
As though they knew what we had killed together
As though they had hoped for some other outcome
Though no other was possible.)

More than anything, I remember
The first blow that struck It. I remember
The sound it made, so surprised,
And that it didn’t even know to run away,
But merely stood there and floundered
And flapped like some kind of bird -

Like some bird that had dared to sing
Loud enough to attract a hunter’s sights.
It did not comprehend our decision.
It stood in place and let itself be burned,
(As we were later burned)
Right next to the sea.

Coming home drunk
(As I only rarely do)
One night, I heard a man
Talking to no one like a reliable friend,
Muttering about having his feelings hurt
And I knew who he was (or at least a kind of who:
Born with no opinions but strong opposition,
Always told, “Hey, you want a revolution?
Roll your own,” and laughed off,
Passed between people and ideas and loyalties
Like a stolen beer.)

I felt the need to be elsewhere, but the street
Dispassionately pressed him and me
Between two buildings.
I didn’t want to catch his eye,
But he caught mine,
I couldn’t look away from his face,
Twisting like he wanted to say
Something else, and then
There came a stillness.

I stared at him.
I’ll admit it, but
He was just so ragged and tough, like
A cardboard box
With bullets inside,
And okay, maybe I was a little scared.
(I was paralyzed, stuck in his eyes
Like the rooms of castles
Where no foot has tread,
Where ghosts sigh and whisper;
And outside there are signs
Saying “danger: do not climb
You will fall”)

Then something broke.
He looked away,
And whispered in a crumbling voice
“You are no one, I am alone,”
And then I knew he was.

Of course I remember, silly dear,
I can't forget paralysis,
Laying half-in, half-out of death,
Hearing your words and
Feeling your breath,
You kept me there.

(And I was already
Death's ward, but you
Fought so hard
To keep me alive,
To bring me home,
And you were so brave)

Of course I remember, my lovely fool,
That I was stupid
With blood in my eyes,
And nearly wanted to die,
But you held me. Though I was so
Out of it all, floating above us both,
I remember you carried me
To a man with a bright cross on his chest.
Don't let me forget.

When I woke from the medicine
And there was your face, then
I could see something that had lived
In darkness, hidden from view
While we were side-by-side
In fields of ******. When your eyes
And cheeks were an honest pink
From tears, I knew who you were,
I knew you had been there, between
Me and death's fingers. You
Were the mightiest of all my gods.

Yes, sometimes I would prefer
Not to bring home the shellshocked
Lieutenant from the great battle of
Wal-mart; sometimes I would like
Not to be tackled out of the cashier's
Line of fire, but every time, I remember:
Your arms were the only thing I was sure existed,
Your voice radioing for air assistance.

The only thing I hate about those memories
Is that they are specters in your periphery,
And your every hour is a haunted one.
Forgive yourself (because I love you,
I need you too,
Be happy.) Please.

You welded me to life, you marvelous idiot.
I won't forget.

Do you remember what it felt like
To be covered in mud; grime
Running down the sides of
Your grim face while you
Tried to hide,

(And you could hear them
Stomping around
Trying to find you
Trying to **** you
And you were so afraid)

Do you remember?
I was next to you,
And you said “Let me forget,
Let me forget” and I didn’t;
I couldn’t because
I’m selfish,
and I would be
Alone with these memories,
So I’m reminding you,
Please forgive me, I remember
All of it, all of it, all of it,

Your face twisted in
That terrified grimace of
Pain and fear and all
I could do was whisper
“I’m here, I’m here”
And now I’m the one
With flashbacks banging between my ears
And I can’t let you forget
That once upon a time,
I was a whole man,

I can’t let you forget that
I was strong once, (that
I’m ******* up now, but
Back then, I held you
And) I’m not worthless,
But that day is still bayoneting
Me, (and I need you.)

Please, tell me.
Do you remember?

Ibiyinka, Ibiyinka Alao
Comes from Nigeria with a name like drums
Comes from Africa with the sun behind his back.
Ibiyinka, Ibiyinka Alao,
Mr. Ibiyinka with a smile in his hands,
Mr. Ibiyinka with a girl's shoulders in his hands
Life, he says, she is alive
She dances.

Ibiyinka, Ibiyinka Alao
Paints like the sun gilds hills and fields
Paints like the moon silvers water and thatched roofs.
Ibiyinka, Ibiyinka Alao
Freezes music into colors that dance
Freezes drums in a quilt of art from every place.
Frozen, he says, like water
Like a heartbeat.

Djembe, Conga, Bongo
Coming from Africa with the skins of goats
Coming from the fields and the homes and the dirt roads
Medium, large, and small
Speaking every language.
Ibiyinka, Ibiyinka Alao -
Djembe, Conga, Bongo.

Dance me down to the railroad tracks
Where we used to walk at night and
Test God (or at least the trains) to prove
That we were young, strong, beautiful,
Alive and deserved to be so. We’d

Wait until the stars fled from our eyes
And the rickety planks under our feet
Quaked in fear of stronger demons.
Our ears pricked like risky rabbits,
Our feet stamping instinctively, wanting
To run, to burrow under, to be gone
From danger and the smell of smoke.

But we were no lapine cowards, we had
No fear of rattling tracks. Holding hands,
We’d stand our ground until the whistle
Screamed blood and fire and death at us.

We’d roar heart and lightning and life
Right back, blinded by that light on the
Black grill. Shining in our eyes, we’d
Realize that even immortal beasties
Can go blind looking at God’s face.

We pushed each other back beyond
The deadly track on either side. My
Eyes grew wide every time we tumbled
Backward onto safer things. Watching
Your fall was like sunrise, and I swear
When we tasted heaven, you had wings.