Daily Archives: November 5, 2019

A Ghost Talking

A ghost walking, hands clasping daggers on a rain-dimmed afternoon.
Too much on my mind; too little mind with which to hold it up.
I’m not a man anymore as much as I am something glimpsed and incorrectly identified.
A blur in the foreground of an old photograph. The viewers ask, in near-perfect unison:
Who is that rushing by, now almost out of frame?

A ghost walking, carrying captured rainwater in two buckets: galvanized metal squeaking as they swing and slop over.
A vinyl album playing on a modern turntable in a second floor room, music in the wet air.
I don’t know this song but that is unquestionably Coleman Hawkins’ tone singing against the rest of the world’s noise.
A wide chorus hovering over the sidewalk five feet up, at near ear-level. Listeners in the vicinity ask:
is there a break in time that makes this so, and who is that ghost, whose water does it carry?

A ghost who glides or floats cannot be described as a walking ghost according to strictest traditional guidelines.
If there is a ghost carrying water, holding knives, or simply floating empty, that’s something to be understood differently.
You ask: what am I not seeing, what am I seeing and not understanding, what am I missing about you?
I say only that I truly don’t know. If I am a ghost, I’m not a restless, disembodied entity as much as something transparent
I cannot fully explain. You see through me, past the love I encompass, past the life I could offer to you.

the American din

words you’d expect to use
are hereby banned

for the duration of
this conversation

instead of nation
we will say blanket

instead of cacophony
we say rust

instead of chaos
we shall say engine

for scream
instead we say the language of love

which is like a blanket 
over rust

flaking off from the rough shake
of the engine that propels us here

to the carnival
which we say instead of saying

which we say instead of saying

a civil debate
which we say instead of saying

what we mean which is 
a way of saying we don’t know

what we mean when we insist upon
speaking of the language of love 

while the blanket
bursts into flame