Daily Archives: July 19, 2018

July 19, 2018

My Dance, My Bad, My Deep

By Tony Brown

Originally posted 2013.  Many revisions later…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My dance, my bad, my deep.
Gave a sorrow opening,
loosed it on the gap within, and now:

ornery. Tantrum. Layabout and cry. 
Going to victim the whole long day;  go pick me
some kudzu, funeral bouquet for a grief show.

Still, I still have rocker hips, roller hips, jazz
groin and lips and hips. Joy ends up somewhere
when pushed from head and heart…thus,

I’ve ended up one sad grinder.  End up bad.
Bad, sinking in deep but still, there’s
one way to set it off and hold it back,

so I’m off to music while still in the hole.
It gives my bad and my deep a resistance.
Gives them rhythm, digging in under the roots;

rubbles my dark village, 
quake cracking, flipping dirt
into the light.  

When I, frightened, shake, 
I still gotta dance my dance, 
my bad, my deep; 

dance even if 
I dance sad. 
It’s my gotta happen.

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July 19, 2018

Each Other

By Tony Brown

Thinking of
the current
ragtag state of us:

our ramshackle bodies,
crude hovels staggered below
hillside mansions.

As always, our pains
are best explained
in our own idiolects,

so we try to listen
to each other,
to hold on to each other.

It’s not been easy,
this long approach to the 
Abyss. 

To bolster us
as we attempt to bridge it,
or prepare to fall, what we have

is memory, each other, 
attention, connection, 
each other once again;

shared anger, shared compassion;
hope and its near-companion,
each other.

It’s darker than we thought.
Our ramshackle bodies
whisper to each other

in our own tongues
and strive to understand.
Some do, some don’t,

some find it easier not to listen. Not
to even hear. So much shouting,
shooting, fire, gas,

gaslighting that illuminates
nothing but its source. 
Each other, we say. We

reach for each other.
All we have. Our ramshackle,
ransacked lives. 

Our connections. Our hope
that we will find each other
among slow-building piles of ruin.

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