River Styx Arthur Brown

River Styx
Source: Reveal Digital , 01-16-1985

Stable URL: https://www.jstor.org/stable/community.28043825
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177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
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КЇУЕК ЭТҮХ
Шштреі
п һе М огпІпе
АКТНОВ ВКОМИМ

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
This publication was made possible by grants from
the CAMELOT/Special Projects Fund of the Arts and
Education Council of Greater St. Louis, the National
Endowment for the Arts, the Missouri Arts Council,
and the St. Louis Arts & Humanities Commission.
missouri arts council
RIVER STYX ISSN 0149-8851
Big River Association

7420 Cornell
St. Louis, MO 63130
© 1985 The Estate of Arthur Brown

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
А ТКОМРЕТ ІМ ТНЕ МОКМІМС
Апһиг Вгоут
(1947 – 1982)

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
CONTENTS
a trumpet in the morning
poem for uncle buddy
what make
a bop instruction
birdness (on the ground)
callin buddy bolden
he was fast
mississippi river poem
tell 'em i was flyin
junebug
cherokee bill
message from the early worm
from plumagram 2
a two dog day
looked for you yesterday
sly mongoose as a woman
there is a man moving into my skin
the assassination of charlie parker
this makes sense
burial (sermonette)
terrablues
old time monkey grip blues
thirty
i'm inventing michelangelo
i can hear my goldfish singing
i want a memory
o when you come

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
ARTHUR’S EAR: an introduction
he was the fastest ear west
of the mississippi
said Arthur Brown, about somebody else. Now it falls to me
to say something about Arthur. But, as usual, he said it so

much better than I could—the fastest ear.
moons constellated under his breath
humming birds stuttered
love pitched its tent

at his sound
And the fastest tongue. All those astonishing voices that
rolled off it, one after the other—Buddy Bolden, Charlie
Parker, Cherokee Bill, Sly Mongoose, the dog in “two dog day”
that wishes sometimes he was a bird, .
a too-large bird high up
barking but harmless
or the voice that breaks into the middle of the incredible
meditation Arthur called ‘terrablues,” that sounds as if
Doctor Donne were wailing from the throat of a preacher in
a storefront church,
. . . lawd yes like a little bitty baby make me
back pretty take me t yo breast yes again lawd

and roll me roll me roll me
in yo healin harm lawd
The fastest ear. The fastest tongue. Arthur lived fast, and
drank hard, and hung loose. Oh didn’t he ramble. And died
as he lived, fast. So fast. Didn't he show the reaper?

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o when you come
come swiftly swift reaper
(this is the way)
o when you cut
cut quickly quick reaper

(i am all here)
And wasn’t he? When Arthur was here, he was all here. Ear
and tongue, mind and heart. But when he went, when he stole
away, he wasn't all gone. Arthur Brown is still here, all

here.
you can bury me in the east you can
bury me in the west
i'm gonna rise up be a trumpet
in the morning. ..
Arthur and all his voices, our daily jive. From these bare
black bones, we can resurrect him, whenever we need.
Donald Finkel, May 1984

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
a trumpet in the morning
you can bury me in the east you can
bury me in the west
i'm gonna rise up be a trumpet
in the morning cause
i been bent in the forge been struck
by the hammer been scorched by fire so
be a trumpet this morning
(o dont touch my shoes

o let 'em shine let em shine)
i been all night

in the dew
john-revelated in the marshy bottoms

lazarused in the crook of a willow whittled
a gospel-boat from a simple reed
launched that skiff in the spittle
of a mule's jaw
gouged a skysong from the black giant's thigh

and shackled it to a cotton flower
o i freighted all my sorrows (o these is florsheim shoes
all bright with dew) and i feels like noah
riding these ankle-boats on god’s stony waters
and i feels like doves in my ear-lobes fetching freedom-sound
in a single green leaf from dry land
feels like glory walking in the blues
tenfingers ten centipedal toes
trebling jubilee from an acoustic crotch
steel and catgut i say i feels
unstrung
like a broken guitar but
be a trumpet soon this morning (o dont touch my clothes
i'm gonna sit on a rainbow seat) o my wings is sprouted out

wings is sprouted
and i feels like mating bird's mother this morning

in the middle of the air
o i been over matched by salvation done broke the rock

of living waters done founded a home in that water shed
done looped the promise-harness round my shoulders

(o dont touch my clothes
cause i'm a sin-bright-standing-pat-jb-stetson-hat-initials-
carved-in-the-back-of-my-shirt-umbrellaed-in-hallelujahs-man
and jackodiamond-hard-to-play
got one eye to see and one to believe
10

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a hellhound on my breath
a crossroad in my breast
stone in my passway
i'm accelerating
and i feels like whiskey talkin rye) o i feels like blowing
my lonesome horn this morning
cause i woke up this morning
more than something on my mind
holy ghost shining down
i aint nothing but love nothing but love
o i feels so injected this morning so strung-out
justa justa whole saharas of loving
is what i'm talking bout
like a flaming desert flower feels like
i'm sipping in the sand
(now tell me did you ever ever ever see
a possum at rehearsal
or a raccoon steal away now watch me

steal
away)
o i got a feeling down deep i
be a trumpet soon-in-the-morning
be a trumpet soon-in-the-morning
11

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poem for uncle buddy
they say
of this wild one
it was news
to no one who'd seen him sip
a cigarette then oxygen
from a plastic cup
rattling air into his lungs
like a spoon
across a scrub-board
while playing cards

from his bed
to no one who'd seen him spit
and hack a lump of laughter
into a rag
or into the spot of sun
by the broom
the laugh they say

was in the end
his request for a peach
a slice of melon bright as memory

with seed black and scattered
and few as his teeth
pink as his spent blood
and in the wish
for a vague young ghost
who snagged a hook-blade knife

in the blues-barrelled throat
of a country tough
then left him drowning

in a stain in the road
he dreamed
of a train
caught by the coat
his cap turned backward

in the blinds
and of the snuff-jawed law
keening behind carooming hounds
and the cotton-eyed town

treed in the moon
12

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the laugh at last
was in the end
he died
where he didnt want to be
east of the mississippi river

and west
of a preaching sly backslid sister

(like a sandwich in a flood) flannelled
in a boundless wild yard
called the country
staring undetected into
a hard boiled blue eye
that connected by a garter-snake

to a socket in a room
he'd paid to build
between the garage and the rent
13

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
what make
my caged brother sing why he

fertilize the air wit his sweet bile
song why he
bruise his lip wit trumpet
n rag his throat wit saxophone
why he score his arm wit biographies a
blues why he
weave the streets a these plantations
wit brilliant corners a dark harmony
make upright love on the piano bones a
his midnight mare

n his love lie fallow in the rows
why my brother
wit ear clipped t the door post
his arm cryin like a harp his blues walkin

like a man his
reed shrill hunger dancin on his

fluted rib
sing
say
my blackname like a gospel
my blackname full
a sunday summer supperbell
blackname countrywild
and deep as a well
i am
the crow in the distance i am
the distance
i am
the blacksharpwing
that cut the changes whiteboy
say caint change

i
the hungry i i
the hunger
who orchestrates pain
14

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
i
am tenor madness
am the song
slipping between the ribs

i
am the tune
t the bone
am the drum i
do like
the drum do i
beat nommo nommo nommo
why he
hang out on trees
why he
hang out
on corners
why he
hang out on needles
what make him sing

who
he seek t assassinate wit his
sweet
bile song
15

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
a bop instruction:
a recipe for the soul

(had from a bluesgummed ragpicker
in kansas city)
transformed with alto sauce
and served on shortwings
a shout
that benchwalked out of church
and sanctified a streetcorner
boppy prescription
for the body’s understanding;
lyrical boppy braille and vision

for the blind
boppy conversation for the mute
bop momentum for the halt
little suede shoes
bop rites
and reunions for geechee resurrection
bop telegrams
for the pulse and bloodline;
bop news
16

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
errata:
change RE to BE bop. RE BE BOP.
p. 1 change st francis the sissy to st elmo hope.
p. 2 change bud to power. change bird's madness to a method
book for the young (you dont have to play). see bop run bop
come bop come bop. change parker to a directional sign. bop

can be a book to live as well as die by. change the beauty of
the dead to the beauty of the living. telephone the generations.
bop reconstruction for the unreconstructed. for the freed man.
bop mules. bop acres. bop signatures on bop votes and boplicity.
walk parker gently home. catch trane. reclaim boppy territory.
show your blues tattoo.
p. 3 change loneliness into onliness. change self to selves.
p. 4 change into. change into. swallow the gold sardine walk
parker boppily home.
p. 5 change into. you know
we could call it ornithology
17

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
birdness (on the ground)
a note from bird’s throat say
parker
been here and
been gone say
hang ya hang ya head whenyaseewhenya

seeseesee
see
this cold cold white mule
pullin me
put my little suede shoes
on my feet
put a silver twenty cent piece in my hand
(o one foot up
toenail draggin draggin draggin)
o sing me a blues to hip the world

bird aint free
goina
o.d. citycitycitycity
I
wontago
too
wontagotoo i wantago
too
but babe i love you
and i caint take you cause

there’s nothin in that
screamlSdreamlSmeanEST town
a funky honey jumpin monkey like you wont do
so baby
so long so long so long

so low down so low down solo down
solo down slow slow down so low low
solo down solo down slow low down
and blue
18

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
CALLIN BUDDY
BOLDEN
callin buddy bolden callin

sweet
calls to and fo plumblack
shimmy
hipted congo loves

callin
CALLIN
(tongueless tunes)
big leg woman
why u be so mean
got plenty
hamfat woman
but u cut so lean
big leg woman
why u
cut yo meat so lean
CALLIN
cutta cuttin bolden
dap black buddy bolden
who play new orleans

lousianna blues f real
who say
SHAKE YO ASS
TO THE BRASS
BUDDY BOLDEN WHO TALK BAD

who play f pimps n them
who say
i'm buddy bolden
n i'm king
in lincoln park
its me that come to see
play f happy
play f sad
birth death day
n boogie
in the dark
19

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
CALLIN BUDDY BOLDEN
HORN RISING LIKE
A SPECIAL RISING SUN
BUDDY WHOSE NOTES DANCE N

WRING WITH THE YOUNG FINE ONES
LIKE WIND IN THE CANE
man say play clean
lawyers doctors
teachers things
inside
i play f them
dont wonta hide
play f hannah
play f rain
CALLIN BUDDY BOLDEN

CALLIN BUDDY BOLDEN
CALLIN BUDDY BOLDEN
WHO'S GONE INSANE
20

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
he was fast
he was fast
faster than k.c. kansas k.c. mo. line
faster
than new york city
he was faster than the horizon
of the mississippi
faster than crawdad
faster than lightnin’s conk
he was fast
faster than bellyrub could
slowdrag
faster than heroin excitement could
drug
faster faster than yo baby’s love

could come
down
is
good
yeah
even faster
than his
own
fingers
could
widow harmony orphan melody
so fast.
jitterbugs waltzed
moons constellated under his breath
humming birds stuttered
love pitched its tent

at his sound
when he played
unlonesome
unlonesome
unlonesome
blues
21

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
cause
he was faster than money could buy
and junebugs knew
yes junebugs knew
22

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
mississippi river poem
the river stumped down
from your house
from your hump of country heaven
past east st louis
stumped down its flowing foot
from your house
all the way to town
before you mama's mama
before your daddy's
before the whole generation ever
thought to be born
or bear
or be at home
it stepped out the kitchen door
with shells quivering in its footprint
like a long wet dog
it slow loped
down past the grapevine
past the shed
past the coop

under the clothesline
past your mama's garden
past where you girlscouted
past where you poked your knife in the ground
past where you tomboyed alone
and learned to be hurt by your own good down
past the drainage and the creek
when it appeared into the woods
nobody heard the splash of its dirt red grin
nobody saw it
you didnt laugh at the catfish in its teeth
you didnt hunt mushrooms
you didnt drown
the river left home
before your mama put the jellies in
before the generation
got a toe hold
23

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
before they sunk your basement
like a ark
into the hill before
the turtles crawled in before
the fossil of your girlhood’s ghost

went to bed
it didnt go by the road
it travelled light
(this was before
it joined the circus before
it learned to pack houses on its back
or snail tugs or trains

or catch divers
from a bridge
before
it ran here from chicago
sang the blues in como
then disappeared into its suitcase
down at the gulf of mexico)
it kissed moonwhite’s titty
shook night's black thigh
took frank and jesse for its wives

hid a storm in the hollow of its tooth
stung the bee
played its laughter close to its cheeks
and mailed a note in your backyard
(it said
i dont know what
it said
something like) if you was a butterfly
i would press you between pages

of a book
if you was a water rat i
wouldnt let you run away with the rest but
since you a woman i just press
you between covers and puddle in your navel and
make your backbone moan and like that (you know how
it could talk
serve shit on the halfshell) would
open all your doors woman and windows let your love flow
out and leave the flesh just
24

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
singing on the bone
get drunk on your tippling titties undo your notions
roll you with my river roll motion till you was river hipped
stain your clothes
then ooze out through the keyhole in your door
it blowed
once in the ear of a girl in memphis

a beale street rill
(something
i thought i heard buddy bolden say)

tennessee mama
you aint
the only lovin little chevy lovin woman in the world
you aint the only shimmy lovin woman in my world
just six sweet teen years old
with childish ways
but you already sittin on the petty cashbox
hear
i was the first circling copper sound blown round
the circling sun
the first sea-shaped drop in the earth spinning earth
the first seed-tided whisper through the plaited
granary door
the yeasty word purled and droned in the loamy womb
i was the first potter's spittle mixed in the mud
the dew on the foot in the wheeling heavens

and the first drum drummed
on the palms of her quickening ears

and i drummed and i drummed
from her sun up till her moon down

then i
spumed
from her full anthill
i took stone for shoulders
stone for elbows
stone for hipjoints

stone for knees and ankles
and i danced
25

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
and my bones beat and sounded
and clattered
like plow-shares on an anvil

and i bounded
wailed
laughed
i was a jackal
i was the first earth man i know
i left home
this was before your father rowed
his first old scuttling chevrolet
up the hill
before the snailshell forgot
its address
before you held your breath
in your backyard woods

and wondered
if you could bank or stand

the river left home
and you drowned on dry land
26

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
tell em i was flyin
our hearts were snared like rabbits
but some the bravest and some from fear
flung heart against caged breast
like wild enraged things
besting courage and fear
against persistent flesh
there was a unity in that
they died a happy death
some leaped singing into the water

some held their breath
some turned their wrists

in their chains
till the dark blood poured
of those who would live but died
some strangled on the cries

of their families
some sighed off asleep

with hearts dismembered
some were killed outright
some were later taken by disease
we who clung to death
hoping for life

after the faces of our kin
and fellowship of our villages
missed first our deep skies

and forests
then the conversation
of our ancestors
we learned to hate our bodies
and the workings of our bodies
for we lay daily

in our filth
many with rectum plugged against the flux
to prevent spilling the intestine

next
we hated ourselves
for we were made strangers
27

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
we were made children
no we were made that thing before children

that becomes children
and when they'd come down to feed us

we looked on them with a hatred
that could only be called love and a love
that could only be called horror
cradling seaward to a bastard’s birth
our breath planked down on us
like steamy haints

and our hearts could not see god
28

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
junebug
he come skinnin down the steps
puffin and blowin
thru cut lips bout how
we turned the joint out
me and billy and kenneth

takin off his clothes fallin
onto the rollaway bed tumblin
off to sleep us kids
stooped between his dreamin

and the couch wonderin
what he use his mouth? poppin

firecrackers under his head
n he dont move a nerve
dreamin i s'pose bout something

he knew or
somethin that he heard
29

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
cherokee bill
i gave up ricocheting for getaways
aint at home on the range

aint never met the man’s horse
the lone prairie aint got no lien my bones
i got a great-grandmother one hundred percent indian
guaranteed
outa natchez or somewhere mississippi
another one at least a half and an aunt
with cheekbones like a moose
i cant stand buffalo snoring and cows
dropping yodels
git my goat
besides who'd own up
to an indian who looked like monk
i mean
play country music
it’s your birthright

wanta dance mae belle who taught sidewinders how
i wonder how
you can still think and drink that stuff
nah
dont wanta whirl at your great divide
last time my gatling jammed
got confused
in your ellery queen never
picked up the scent

i mean
arrest that motion
who’s the proprietor
saddle the town and hag ride out
by noon
30

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
i didnt come to make a speech
the innocent dont need alibis
hey kid gimme a shot
of that roy bean
it’s just these riddling times
haha i didnt mean a thing
got a split personality
you know
schizo
phrenic
(i gota note from my doctor)
i was tryina commit suicide
a simple case
of mistaken identity
i thought he was me
31

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
message from the early worm
you said it was a whiff

of dark music
that drew you down
you even kept it

secret
from your belly
your heat moved in mine
i'm empty
the length of my body
when you come again

to love me
pack a lunch
32

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
from plumagram 2
Fireplugs dont look nothin like seahorses and lookin down into concrete you
can't see th sky or your own face or imagine that it is endless deep You can’t
wonder Sometimes you be with somebody you argue what's th differ- ence
between cement and concrete But you be walkin down Easton Avenue
sometime and it be so hot you can watch th street heat shimmy You think
sometime you second sighted You feel like you got skim over your eyes and
th world was born with a caul and it be dingy fords and cruiser cadillacs tug
busses and whatever it be be drowning men lappin over the liqour store step
and th sky be so low and so sullen you think it gone crush th backs of th
waves Be sendin women’s hair back and undoing doos It’s another kind of
see and you don't know that it’s damn near a miracle that you can barely
walk th water
33

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
a two dog day
it was like this from the beginning

or should have been
(there were times on the road
when rain drowned out the sky

like its throat had been cut and
even big birds swam down the drenched air

like wounded subs and the earth were no bottom
there were fine days full of light
when they hung high up motionless on their backs

tacked to the clear blue pool by wind
and little birds frittered aimless
as bits of crepe paper

or watched out for their lives
i wished sometimes i was one
a too-large bird high up
barking but harmless)
through it all
even under suns hot as skillets
i sustained him
i was his dog
when his mind unkennelled
we travelled heedless as two loose beads
tilted to and fro along a web of string
between the coasts’ broad palms
i used my tail to mark the place
and unrolled a map of fidelity
in flatbed and in ditches
we traded bedbugs for fleas

i soothed and warmed him
with my belly’s own
provender
of heat
34

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
one day the ground began to speed
under his feet
like a surging film

he knew then he was a shadow
projected by some other ego’s image

he cooed
a broken prose that purpled deserts
the skyways jammed with captions
excerpted sermons in the voice

of the universe
ballooned preachments bounced his senses

and he scooted into a blue cartoon
looking lecherously at the trees
bumped the earth with his hipbones
testifying an unruly zoo
had homesteaded his groin
his lice were a posse tracking yahoo chromosomes
that history wears a white hat
on saturday mornings
that columbus sailed from disney

that rentex holds deed to the ranch
and at last
that he would go forth and teach
trauma to barnyard fowl
and metallurgy to the early worm
he frequently pitched
for salvation
and began to seek high places
we were surrounded by stars

when he made me swear
my man love and his authority

he drooled
a sudden hunger
the voice required an offering

which he'd not offend
with tilled or vegetable thing
o it was good by the fire
in the dancing light
it was good when he bent
and whooped his prayers
it was good that night
of my slaughter
35

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
i dreamed sail-shaped birds
gliding the arc of sky

and i wished i was one
a too-hairy bird peering down
through the streams of air
with my back to terrible blank heaven
i squealed when he struck

and the blood bubbled out
and my head flapped back on a grin
i squealed and raced my feet in the air
he held me by the scruff
(and i thought myself again a flea-ish dot
on the arc of the sky's underskin)
i squealed then gave a long high howl
like my brothers coyote and wolf

(but i knew myself a circus dog
who'd chased a painted ball

like the moon)
i whimpered and my fire went out

and i knew
there was no death past this
but life compacting

on its radiance
like a star sweeping up its dust
and going home to eternity
(a cherry pit)
i heard the fat and gristle sizzle

he ate a haunch a bit of breast
and i knew
he was a man
or more
a dog can go on four legs or two
there are good dogs

but few
36

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
looked for you yesterday
i saved your footsteps
i keep them in a plate
i picked them up outside the door
took the broom and swept
the wander dust away
thought i'd buy a pistol
and shoot it through the mail
but match-box was your suitcase
bluebirds couldnt find you
so i knew my shot would fail
now brooks run to the ocean
took a train to see the sea
i dont run into stone pony
set the setting sun on me
once we were giddy
happy as a photograph
but you complained
your skimpy breast
till beauty slipped your face
i got your footsteps

and i've learned to trace the taste
can tell your neighborhood
by the flavor of the grass
i got a rocket ship

but i'm much too weak to ride
got a rocket ship

most too weak to ride
wanta do like the horizon
wanta lay down side by side
37

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
sly mongoose as a woman
because i want you from wichita
because i want you beneath house-leaping trees

in columbia missouri
because i want you chesterfield riverside

and tramline
because i want you suspended
in fits and hesitations because i want you
in every high place because i want you

mountainous at one sixteenth inch per year
because i want you jostled upstream
in slippery fish futures
because i want you darkling on lightyears’ memory
because i want you improvised in ebony and ivory
because i want you melisma in micro tones

from out of and back into from-out-of-nowhere
polymetric glissando uptempo dexterity
in cycles of fifths because
i want you come-out-of-the blues because
i want you between a rock and a hard place
because i want you in sheets of rain
because i want you tear-drenched in smiles
because i want you famous muslim bean pie
because i want you pork chop and pork pie hat
because i want you in multiples of zucchini
and potassium rich

whole kernel cracked raw and ciabbered
because i want you perishable because i want you
indigestible mummified and shelf-life improved because
i want you color-added red dye no. 3
caffeine and crackerjack empty calories with
a surprise inside
because i want you soul-omnivore refreshing spring
redemption center because i want you eagle stamp
chocolate and acne’s prayer house
because i want you in your twenty-first step to heaven
because i want you new found love and top of the harp
celestial equator earth bound bending eastward
to wake gonave
38

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
because i want you sacred and yellow-backed
just one necromancer from now
animated and bridled by ambiguous spirits
and a lathered syntax
because i want you tell my horse
because i want you ask my horse
because i want you
because i want you
new day lady day
and can’t explain
39

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
there is a man moving into my skin
the result of cynical polls

and elections
he is changing the locks
on my opinions
cropping the corners of my smile

to resemble his photos
he has hung the umbrella of his fears
bat-like and dripping
in my coziest room
his breath pants after me
through the hallways
or fogs my feeling like a fetid curtain
black hat and turned up collar
bit by bit and daily
he is arriving from everywhere
in the mail box and by parcel post
saying i must sign for him
slipped under the door
on lewd and colorful flyers
(i can pay later)
he speaks a tangle of languages
or signs
in a cat's-cradle of cross looks
or quiet
as the telephone never ringing
with his hands in my pockets
he casually paces
the center of my loneliness
40

ffff:ffff:ffff:ffff:ffff:ffff:ffff on Thu, 01 Jan 1976 12:34:56 UTC
the assassination of charlie parker
bird does not live
charles christopher parker is dead
is dead in marbled legends
of a bronze benin faced boy with patch-work horn

and mama-made macoute
a jazz-juba muse
watching down lester’s hands
from kansas city balconies
tracing with bird’s eye feather fingers melodic pantomime
of syncopated braille
bluing a new cartography of flight
at the ear’s horizon’s deepest touch
is dead whose soul's-song was dust roads was goat paths
was brooming from gold coast to stoop-down
to git-back to guinea to harlem

was shuffle blue-black bottom and whoa back buck up
comin down and lord child now’s the time and catch up
and huckle buck a stop and double time kalinda
through the four four and misty
of tin pan alley
was sugar rum molasses sweet back and back
in lockstep in coffle and in harvest of heart-drought
is dead in chili parlors and cherokee
in the recycled but unresurrected riff
in turn your money green
is dead in the elegant laps of hip debutantes
dead to tommy dorsey’s horn-rim
glasses
to bennygood man and the wrong note

is dead in taxicabs
nodding to everywhere
out in the out chorus
and the vamp is dead

to smack
to smacked back
screeching A Train subway and so soon and bye baby the obscene solo
come shitty come yuk yuk come tee hee come mellow
fucked up and over
funny phoenix orgasmic out of the asshole of he gone
41

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
is dead
in all the bop visioned and bop spent

stations of the breath
is dead
to BE
bop charles christopher parker is yardbird-dead
0-rooney
42

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
this makes sense
find it out
run into it
break a toe
a foot a head a window a door
clamp down heart with teeth
if you could
jump up
let the world roll
under your feet
columbus-like you could
travel standing still
and surprise
call your ass discovery
like a seal or dog

or drab ahab
barking at the waves
yourself your own moby dick
fleeing and stalking

a universe black sea
43

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
burial (sermonette)
and where it has shone
in its sleeve
the soul
wears out the coat
and the coat rags
with this quote close
and we read the stone
chewed your words

recalled
how you bounced home
like fruit in a bag
not life enough

to fill a hole
44

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
terrablues
maybe
yo mama is still
birthing u
maybe
yo mama births u
forever
maybe
yo mama bears u
still
u say
u got a redder wisdom
thirtysome years n u found yo place
sherman park a park seat

sometime
th front seat a a fucked pickup
th corners a martin luther king n
kingshighway
halfrest
between th juke a traffic
a redder wisdom th play a sense
between yo left hand n right mind

more than a notion
sense
got from syphilis
th important thing
u say t keep
CONSCIOUS
ness
t keep
CONSCIOUS
not t be
dealt
on
its
not the goin
t sleep
but th
wakin up
that’s hard
45

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
life is velocity
fastness a flesh t bone quickness

a blood a fastenin a breath t earth
the heart's circle
earthman
'member
yo mama aunt rosie drunk on rosie o
grady
pearl bailey fish face without beauty
th drunken swing a her her heavy
yellow body
perchmouth embouchure poutin wine songs

finger poppin
come on mon let's have a good

time
and elmer step-indian bent indian sweeter

than rosie o sweet heart in his knees
sipped up niggered in
earthman
'member
mississippi vicksburg birthing

red dirt bovina
earthfaces known better than yo own name
yo mama's girlhood spite

that certified u
mr long gone so and so man
"member sonny sims smilin spinnin policemen’s
pride by th brim
uncreasin they pants with the point a his pistol

at whim
crackin ossie’s foot wit his triggered eye
how he was citywise and wild and how

he chased his death down
46

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
"member u now
the soil a yo face shiftin skin
fruitful lips big
blackripe plantain tricks
yo eyes puddlin
th sun
a yo mind
borne wit a caul
th grassline a yo brow knit
head cropt
the rummage a sense riddlin you cheeks
a fever in yo lap
th heart's circle
earthman
here you sit

mechanic's suit ridin boots
coated in all u own
yo sweat th heat
saying easier to wear than haul
yo fingers like leaves

fists
unballing
"member u dancin in a cloak room
a cold coatless shadow
boxin schoolin your arms to warm
yo spirit chapped ground yo breath
in yo hands
47

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
yo fight
"member
ready golden hands rose

wit wine rosie wit fear elmer wine
they funny clothes
the crowd white folks th pros pride
aunt rosie’s hockrolled peach bright hands
“hit smitty hit me too” her
bicycle reel
ready t fight so abashed u couldnt
fight couldnt fight
whipt
ossie wailed rattle
easton avenue storefront heavens tambourine
like a collection plate
talkin bouta jesus talkin bouta

th devil she
rolled sin’s soul holyroll
sin like a brokedown engine draggin ona gospel chain
talkin bouta ramblers gamblers goddammers lawd
kin only cure this soul sickness pain lawd
u th one kin make me back pretty again
lawd kin crush a soul like a rock kin sip it up
like a drop a water lawd kin hang a clean soul on yo
sky line lawd over yo heavenly city yes over yo skyblue
city talkin bouta snake walkin devil swampfooted devil
walkin yes walkin unashamed yes brazen in yo daylaborin light
like a walkin kingsnake lawd wit th men wit th women
ona left and right hand hear me n they aint ashame lawda
th blacksnake in his quirl u th one aint ashame a the
black snake in th thigh naw naw aint nothin reckless
like a blacksnake in his quirl u th one kin beat him
bust his head lawd yes like a little bitty baby make me
back pretty take me t yo breast yes again lawd

and roll me roll me roll me
in yo healin harm lawd
member
earth city
the sweetest town
sweet home
48

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
a 47 hudson yo terra plane
yo mouth a smile a halfcrown openfaced gain
yo eyes a lie a street sweet psych
a clutched dream in yo wheelin hands

(a
who been here since i been gone
bitty bitty black mwindo
derby on
a
streamin orissa
hips like
good times roll love like
nights long
red dress
on
be
her earth angel child)

face smooth as a dollar
th child a yo luck outfacin

th man a th minute
in winged amazement
(heart is th hut a ages

woman so beautiful
it hurts me
heart is th hut a ages
i am inside my skin
let me let me
ease in
love
i love
i love backwards n forwards

i die
i die backwards n forwards
wine
i have been wine i have
kissed my red lips red
a place to drink self up

lovin one
i am a flea between times
u wit mud limbs long
as rivers as strings navel t navel
ida red grass bearded grass skirted
49

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
lady wit carnival
i am a knot between times
been down times i
could not fight times times

unless
i pulled them t th ground
these highways have no heart 00000
u at th hearts delta) quickening

terra dreams
50

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
old time monkey grip blues (who do?)
keep a good eye on me
i say somebody lookin me all up and down
so Zone a good eye on me

don’t let these hellhounds bird me down
cause i got who-do? on my hoodoo
goofer ground up in my wounds
and say a good word for me
somebody talkin me all which around

so hail a true word for me
or badmouths grieve me after while
well i got them who-dos? on my hoodoo
goofing gurus round my peristyle
lord if my friends alert me
i'll sic these what-nots off my fun
said if my friends don’t hurt me
i'll shake these dadas off my fun (cause
peoplespeoplespeoplespeoples now
just as long’s i got my shadow
you know i can cool myself

or i can shine out in the sun)
well just like a wave out in the ocean

(ummm hmmmm)
just like a bee without a hum
(yeah)
just like a wheel without a motion
(alright)
i'm just waitin for my time to come
51

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
thirty
thirty
and the next poem i write
will never again say
please
love me
it would rather
die in the open
than bless with a kiss
the silver bullet through its heart
it would rather
the werewolf
dropping a nightly litter
of hoohaas at your door
or with the knock
of its pulse
pound a jig’s-up-stake
of ghoul’s bane
through your feelings
leave them
pancake make-up peeling
on a thwack of sunlight
joan crawford’s jawbones

on the backlots of boo
carpe diem dry humping i.o.u.s

to the rose
than that frost-jismed nightmare
tootling zooty toons

it would rather
see you petunia pig
newsreeled at the slaughter
your smile and the glint
in that porky eye
flickering down across your throat
52

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
or sand-dance and shuffle
peekaboo up
from down for the count
ambush from the edge
of your vision
the outskirts of your rhythm

with a sockful of nickels
in every word
the next poem i write
would rather telegraph you
than ever again mope
divining hunger with its fork
while you speak quiche lorraine

and flick
the grain-belt from your teeth
will be your next friend
advising you
taking your part
in the separation
of you
from you
hissing from under the rock

of its heart
exu tiriri
will be a challenge to the doctors
a snake-hipped omolu and playful pox
using your vaccination for candomble

and veve
infecting you with just enough then
at the last gasp
the next poem i write will whisper that
this is the next poem i write
53

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
i'm inventing michelangelo
he rows towards me in a little red boat
he rows with his tiny hands
across the wind tossed mind of god
the mind of god is sourceless
sea-green expanse of time
flowing in every direction
god rows there too
carrying surveyor’s tools and compass
making pointless maps without longitude or latitude
thinking the stars poor imitation of himself
pinholes where light leaks out of dark
michelangelo travels by instinct and luck and touch
god's mind flows between his fingers in seamless braille
he sings a song for sailors
and ports part by part
in little bundles and shrimp-sized steamer trunks
michelangelo is not quite himself
he is dumped by deliverymen
into a bin at the south of my imagination
under a sunny window
the one with the begonia
he falls into a heap of scrap creation
whatever god has left over
i give michelangelo the eyes of rimbaud
and the lopsided smile of my dog who ran away

after only one week
welcome i say
and give him the voice of the radio
roses and a pair of shoes

sit down
54

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
i'm really getting to know michelangelo
and he’s relaxing too
changes his own stations now

walks around in his socks
and takes what he wants from the icebox
without sticking on little magnetized notes
two slices of cheese
a pear
two beers
i'll pay you later
in a dusty cowboy voice
stuffed with rugged individualism
and prairie transcendence
mike says
soon’s i get set up
sweep mop the studio wash the windows

i'll write that book
i always wanted to write
lots of autobiography but really a novel
myself under the flag of a new name
i'm gonna make me up
from end to beginning
where i'll disappear into my future
then i'm gonna get some brushes
and paint god a new soul

one of his own
not one messy all over the place
flopping all over the perspective like a hurricane of crows
or wandering restless through creation

like some hobo hoodoo dream
without a head to sleep in
55

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
from up there where the plaster’s cracked
and looks like god's migraine
michelangelo looks down from his scaffold
and sees a group of round young men
lolling in a park
he desires them with his lopsided smile
and his deep eyes of rimbaud
and all the young men are michelangelo’s david
and all god
all are michelangelo
they row towards him in little red boats
pulling the green air past them with their hands
56

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
he is singing a love song
he is singing a whale song
he is saying this bowl my world

is a window
he is saying this world my bowl
is a ripple
my lover says her motion is

a sea-bed’s motion and
sea-soft sea-hugged
at the hub of her
i feel her swelling
in her gravity
and i can hear
my goldfish singing
singing
motion isnt possible
he is singing
my body my motion
my motion my wave
my wave my cage
my cage my world
and i can hear
my goldfish singing
he is singing
the year
is already too small
57

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
i want a memory
i want a memory
with grace
pearl gray with a feather
lounged down over my face

like the after-glowing smile
of the mellowest sun just set
a half-shadowy after-pat
of oozy evening butter
i want a memory who'll know
when to say
i do not know and who
in all the skittish chirping parlors wont
startle all the smallest gamesome talk
with swooping sudden revelation
rather a memory
who in the tact and natter of such rooms
will pause and stare
into the middling distance a space
lazily
arranging its hair
or puckered on a tune
a memory please who's been and seen
all the late late picture shows

but who
wont say who
did or didnt get the girl or done it
a memory woolly and random as a quilt
who'll go to bed and let you sleep
not stay up creep gumshoe all night go
through all your pockets drawers
letters papers notes
trying always to remember
scowling third degree
saying what is this what is it
you must remember and

who and who
58

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
not shiver sleep
screeching lugosi
ravelling karloff from the furls of sheets
not wail a chill of gothic choruses
down the stops of your soul

like a necromantic clarinet
but weave you instead
the dream singing
of the wind-waved grasses
that sea-deepening after-dusk

when beneath a tree-shushed moon
beneath a dust of stars
beneath that other shuddering soul
you lay limp and taken

and for the lifetime of that instant
cradled love’s flickering stranger
in the palm of your heart

like a match
and you and all that night-time of the earth
were eclipsed by a kiss
a memory then
who in that tune
will forget to sound for you

the animal-snore
of the future curled
at the edges of that blurring place
and the hiss and ticking

of those fused hearts
i'll have a memory at ease

who with a snicker
crumples the map of yesterday
and goes on stumbling
if that’s its way

an awkward saint with an awkward faith
59

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
o when you come
o when you come
come softly sweet reaper
come sweetly
o when you come
come swiftly swift reaper
(this is the way)
o when you cut
cut quickly quick reaper

(i am all here)
o if you change
change seasons green reaper
(it’s not early)
o when you come

come conscious dream reaper
(remembering that you are

and i am
each of us only one)
change freedoms
o come soon come laughing come whole

come rain come brightly come earthquake
come coatless come crazy come broke
come walking come borrowed come stolen

come winded come wound-up come wild-eyed
but come loving sweet reaper come loving
60

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
This collection represents roughly half of the body of poetry
Arthur Brown left behind. It was selected and arranged for this
issue of RIVER STYX by Michael Castro, Donald Finkel, Dewi

Koelzer, Shirley LeFlore, and Howard Schwartz.
Acknowledgements:
Some of the poems collected here have previously appeared

in Contact II, Focus/Midwest, Song of the Sly Mongoose (Per-
ishable Press, 1981), and River Styx Magazine.
Special thanks to James Brown and the Brown family for their
cooperation. Arthur Brown’s poems may not be reproduced

or republished without their written consent.
Cover Art: Mary Wilson

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC
Arthur Ray Brown was born September 7, 1947 in St. Louis, Missouri, where
he lived his entire brief life. Though little of his poetry was published during
his lifetime, he was well known in the St. Louis area for his powerful read-
ings, often performed in collaboration with the jazz music he loved. He did
publish one limited edition chapbook, Song of the Sly Mongoose (Perishable
Press, 1981). In 1981 he was named Distinguished Fellow by the St. Louis
Commission of the Arts and Humanities for his “distinguished service to the
art of poetry,” an award that included a cash stipend. He died suddenly on

August 5, 1982 of heart failure at the age of 34.
A Trumpet
in the Morning
ARTHUR BROWN

177.190.64.100 on Fri, 31 Dec 2021 18:40:26 UTC

River Styx Arthur Brown

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River Styx Arthur Brown

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River Styx

Source: Reveal Digital , 01-16-1985

Licenses: Creative Commons: Attribution-NonCommercial

This item is openly available as part of an Open JSTOR Collection.

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missouri arts council

RIVER STYX ISSN 0149-8851

Big River Association

© 1985 The Estate of Arthur Brown

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a trumpet in the morning

poem for uncle buddy

birdness (on the ground)

callin buddy bolden

mississippi river poem

tell 'em i was flyin

message from the early worm

a two dog day

looked for you yesterday

sly mongoose as a woman

there is a man moving into my skin

the assassination of charlie parker

this makes sense

old time monkey grip blues

i'm inventing michelangelo

i can hear my goldfish singing

o when you come

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he was the fastest ear west

said Arthur Brown, about somebody else. Now it falls to me

to say something about Arthur. But, as usual, he said it so

moons constellated under his breath

humming birds stuttered

love pitched its tent

And the fastest tongue. All those astonishing voices that

rolled off it, one after the other—Buddy Bolden, Charlie

a too-large bird high up

barking but harmless

or the voice that breaks into the middle of the incredible

meditation Arthur called ‘terrablues,” that sounds as if

Doctor Donne were wailing from the throat of a preacher in

. . . lawd yes like a little bitty baby make me

back pretty take me t yo breast yes again lawd

in yo healin harm lawd

drank hard, and hung loose. Oh didn’t he ramble. And died

as he lived, fast. So fast. Didn't he show the reaper?

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come swiftly swift reaper

(this is the way)

o when you cut

cut quickly quick reaper

away, he wasn't all gone. Arthur Brown is still here, all

you can bury me in the east you can

bury me in the west

i'm gonna rise up be a trumpet

black bones, we can resurrect him, whenever we need.

Donald Finkel, May 1984

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you can bury me in the east you can

bury me in the west

i'm gonna rise up be a trumpet

in the morning cause