Thursday, January 26, 2006

Steve Dalachinsky

A Letter to Thomas - steve dalachinsky

you're dead one week
oh what an awfully stupid thing to say
dead one week
another quartet in a different place
& i don't feel the same

the flowers laid out for you
are blue & ochre birdwing things
on the drummer's shirt
with red flame
& dust exploding in my right eye
like a revolting soul
oh & the yellow daffodils that opened
over night
are mumbling something like smell us
no you should have smelled us
today we only look good
but there's really nothing left

oh & how about that photo of you i received in the mail today
come all the way from scotland from a friend who thought he'd
send it 'cause he thought i felt "close" to your music
a photo taken of you in 1993 at the knitting factory
blowing the way you blow
oh & before i forget
me & this death of mine
that sits so noisy & sequestered
in all my aching bones -
tomorrow is your memorial
well the first one anyway
& you can bet i won't be going -
too far
or something like that

& a week's already passed
& a winter without snow
& the only flowers beside the flowers
on the drummer's shirt
& the daffodil's that my wife put in the kitchen
are the acanthus engraved on the tenor saxophone
& the roses given to the cellist in the film i saw this morning
& the bouquet left behind by the poet & then retrieved
after her reading tonight
& those two delightful little crocus buds
getting ready for spring
near n.y.u.

oh & next week this time will be two weeks
& more flowers will bubble like geysers
from beneath the earth
as if some shortcut had been taken
fueled by your newly gathered ashes
& your newly planted heart

& another week will pass
& then another
& another
& another
& other fictions will be written
that will be laced with

steve dalachinsky pg 2 of 2
A Letter to Thomas