Hearing Voices

If I'd followed his advice
When he learned there was a baby
He didn't flinch, think twice
To keep it, he thought crazy

When he learned there was a baby
"Snuff it out," he blithely said
To keep it, he thought crazy
"We'll be better when it's dead"

"Snuff it out," he blithely said
His words came as a shock
"We'll be better when it's dead"
A hard place and a rock

His words came as a shock
Then I heard her lusty cry
A hard place and a rock
With love, I said goodbye

Then I heard her lusty cry
And yet I set her free
With love, I said goodbye
Her new parents, they make three

And yet I set her free
My desires, I deferred
Her new parents, they make three
I listened to God's word

My desires, I deferred
I didn't flinch, think twice
I listened to God's word
And I followed His advice

Memphis, Anyway

“I’m not concerned about that now”
said the mountain that spoke with his face,
down from the edge of an unsheltered sky,
and King went to Memphis anyway.
Excerpt from Memphis Anyway by Dan Collins


When he was born in 1929, he was named Michael like his father
But concern for the great religious activist compelled his dad
To change both father and son names to Martin,
Martin Luther. Sometimes I wonder if I would accomplish
More if I changed my name, too. Maybe I could be
Eudora Welty or Sally Struthers, but somehow
I don’t think that would make a difference. What compels
A person to rise above their earthly bondage, to lash
Their focus onto ethereal goals, onto Life’s prow
“I’m not concerned about that now”

King made that speech in 1963, the year I was born
And yet in my mind, I can hear his voice pealing out the words
Oh, the wonders of YouTube and a good memory
I still have one, you know. I’ve not lost my mind’s
Facility. Mount Rushmore. I’ve been there twice,
Have you? Once when I was two years old, that place
Was captured on film and I can watch my small, blond
Self holding a snake in Reptile Gardens; it must have
Been along the route. Back then, life was all grace
said the mountain that spoke with his face

Martin was assassinated in 1968, when he was 39 years old
I remember being five then. I owned a dog named Trixie
I had a birthday party with my friends Cheryl and Carol Wold
And Dan Matthews and Jeanne. But I don’t remember any-
Thing about Martin. I wasn’t too young to recall that time in
My life, my grandparents’ farm, my old Aunt Prisca, so why
can’t I remember Martin’s death? Did anyone die when I
was five? I was still living in grace. God still hid in the church
rafters and sang the incantation during High Mass, way up high
down from the edge of an unsheltered sky

The first murder I genuinely remember happened on West 72^nd street.
John Lennon was old then, I was seventeen, he was forty. He was old, right?
Did you know, at the moment he was pronounced dead at Roosevelt Hospital
The song, All My Loving, by the Beatles began playing over the sound system
When I die, I wonder what song will be playing, what song do I want?
I like music from Godspell, the musical. Somehow I’d arrange for Day
By Day to be playing if only in my mind. “To see thee more clearly,
Love thee more dearly, Follow thee more nearly, day by day…”
King knew what his future foretold, but there was a voice he had to obey
and King went to Memphis anyway

Tupelo Diner

Wait till you hear what Ruby Perlman did last night.
What in tarnation she be thinkin’, I do not know.

We was working the second shift
at Woolworth's and that girl,
she stands behind the lunch counter
serving the whole Crider family dessert.
I think it was them little lemon custards
with a dollop of whipped cream on top
and a dustin’ of cinnamon.
Looked just like what Miss Margaret served
on TV last Sunday night.

So's anyway, Miss Ruby
she pours coffee for the Mister and Missus
gives ‘em cream, sugar lumps, whatever blessed thing they ask for.
One of them Crider twins spilt his milk and
the baby emptied a salt shaker on the floor,
but that ain't what set Ruby off.

Mr. Crider, he stands up

and the whole family
they leave. 

Eunice, that oughta be Miz Crider,
now don't you be telling her I using her Christian name,
she asks Mr. Crider to leave a tip or sumptin,
seeing as they left a mess,
what with creamed ‘taters slopped
down the high chair and that bratty Betty
shoving perfectly good black-eyed peas
in all them clean straws.

So's anyway, Mr. Crider, he looks at Ruby
and grunts,
then he gives his oldest boy a penny and
tells him to go leave it on the counter.

Avis, that boy,

He ain't got the sense he ‘uz born with.
He walks back to th’ counter
And drops the coin in a glass of water
sayin’ wit’ snakes in his eyes,
"here ya go, nigger."

Ruby--
she jes stands there looking at Avis,
then she grabs the water glass and
hustles over to the front door

squeezin' her body past the Mister
and filling up the doorframe, so's Miz Crider can't get round her.

Ruby's bosom was a heavin'.  She looking

hotter than a two-buck pistol.
She be panting, with sweat
shaking off ‘er head like a dog.

Then she says,
jes’ like that, she says,
"Mr. Crider, if'n you cain't leave me more tip than one piddlin’ cent,
then I don't want your money or your business!"

‘n she takes that glass of water
an pours it over Mr. Crider's head.
‘n she takes that coin,
pressing it on his greasy brow
so's the picture of Abra’m Lincoln
purt near branded on his forehead like he a bawlin' calf.
Not that it'll do any good, but still,
she done it.
She did. 

I swear, when they drug Miss Ruby off
all 'cuffed 'n bound
them cops prob’ly reckon
ol' Ruby gone dug her own grave.

But you mark my words, now,
that Miss Ruby,

Someday...
She gonna fly.

Interview with Lee Harvey Oswald

Let me ask you just one more question
Had you ever shot a man before?
I take your silence as implied confession

Carved in my mind: your Byzantine expression
Found on your face ere you hit the floor
Let me ask you just one more question

Was killing John your sole obsession?
A President we could all adore
I take your silence as implied confession

You maintained your sight on the grand procession
Then pulled the trigger, not once, but four
Let me ask you just one more question

Did you act alone or in succession
with others who formed a conspiracy corps?
I take your silence as implied confession

May God forgive you your transgression
As you knock with hope at Heaven's door
Let me ask you just one more question
I take your silence as implied confession

Dead at 39

I am no longer of myself, but of a communal picture, living at large. When I place my hands on the lectern, I feel voltage where none was before. The throng loosens its voices though the well of my soul sinks deeper. I once stood at the foot of this mountain, but now climb to the pinnacle; its peak is within reach.


Metamorphosis
From colored boy to icon
The fruits of my thoughts

I am no longer fearful, though you fear me, fear my credo. I am not here to change you, but to reshape your world view, as did my namesake four hundred years ago. I also can list ninety-five reasons: One, I am a human being. Two, my rights are equally guaranteed by the Constitution. Three, my wife gives birth to babies just as yours does. Four, I am not defined by the color of my skin. Five...

No longer deny
My selfsame humanity
I am your brother

Memphis has become my Jerusalem; hidden amongst the crowd lies a snake, which my heel cannot crush. This weight works itself into my face, trying to contort my message, but the weight will turn to buoyancy, my words will become golden. I stand now on the balcony listening to a song in my mind: Take My Hand, Precious Lord. I see the snake.

Vict'ry flashes
Sending me to the mountain top
My dream is at hand

Good Counsel Home, 1963

The first time I saw Tula,
she was cracking an egg over
a yellow bowl the Housemother and I
had found at Goodwill that morning.

The trick is to beat it until it’s good and foamy,
she said, a matchstick dangling
off the edge of her lip, nearly falling
into our uncooked lunch.

We sat at the counter, balancing on bar stools
still funky from bleach and ammonia, slurping egg-dumpling soup,
taking reluctant bites out of apples
we’d picked up with our AFDC checks.

Tula was ready to pop, though she never complained
about the silver ribbons snaking across her gut or the
bowling ball sitting on her bladder. I saw her once, scratching her
backside, working her index finger like her ass was made outta Playdoh.

Two weeks later, Tula was on kitchen duty again.
She stood there with her deflated belly and eyes like a basset hound.
I asked if she knew who got her kid.
Sneering, she took two brown eggs, and raising

her arms high over head, she smashed
them together, the yellow yolks sliding
down her wrists, shells falling in her hair,
whispering, who the hell cares.

Once Upon a Bed

Tracey and Lou owned a PosturePedic mattress
You’d never know, to look at them, they weren’t married
Most telling was Lou loving Tracey with a light caress

They shared two children, a dog, with great success
Between day-care, school, and work, they often ferried
Tracey and Lou owned a PosturePedic mattress

A trip to Dr. Bahrain, lymph nodes he did access
At that precise moment, they began to feel harried
Most telling was Lou loving Tracey with a light caress

Where does one go when one seeks to convalesce
With family? Alone? The choices were varied
Tracey and Lou owned a PosturePedic mattress

Lou said to Tracey, “Back to your mother’s, I would guess.”
But, “Tsk, tsk, tsk, it’s a shame you never married.”
Most telling was Lou loving Tracey with a light caress

Two rings turned up on that last day along with fancy dress
Into the crypt went mother’s tears; the rings regretfully they buried
Tracey and Lou owned a PosturePedic mattress
Most telling was Lou loving Tracey with a light caress