this is what you grab at when you get lost.

 

 

 

All these ugly people and I find myself

stuck in psychographics. I mean Black folk

are only identified by values and fears. And I've

lived in a neighborhood with a raped 14 year old

so you can't tell me s**t about beautiful boys

born without the rudimentary tail and beak.

Just

smiling through his gums and wing-like

kicking the back of a hand-me-down stroller. Someone

remarked that "all babies look alike", until they

are three, or until the earth is

the center of the universe. Whatever.

Among all of this, food poisoning and manhood,

body hair, getting drunk behind "Crazy Sam's  Beer and Meats"

learning your "Tempting Temptation's" routine

(I was always Paul, the one on the end who's pants

never reached the top of his shoes. He who grabbed

his collar with such force on "I Wish It Would Rain"

as the intstruct to how to jack someone. No one whispered to me

that it wasn't real; that songs were sometimes

the ongoing dramatic narrative,

in full effect, of ones own unchecked emotional struggles.

That sunshine and blue skies will go away, even without begging God.

Be the you, you were before all that stuff

that diminished your f*****g shine

becomes manifest. But I digress.

About Halle Berry, or Farah Fawcett, or Beyoncé, or if you were, as the rest of the world,

born in the 50's, Freda Payne: Her big chocolate thighs , each night, capsizing the bunk bed

looking off into the origin of mankind, being blissful and rational.

Helpful and comforting. Therapeutic and horny  .  Then you meet

someone who isn't any of that.

One who consumes your solids and returns your wasteful

putrefactive's to the soil of memory and want.

But you are happy.

Reviews

[Ken Simm.]

What I find so fascinating here is that this is as complete a story of growing up and looking at experience, as I have ever read. Of course it is autobiographical but it raises the story to the value of myth and beyond. I was born in the 50's but I never imagined this story. Nor did I know who Freda Paine was until much later. Much , much later. She simply was not on my radar as a hippy in the late sixties. Whereas Gracie Slick was, (for what its worth).
This write places layer upon layer into and of a life. You are amazing my brother.

[h d e rushin]

thank you my dearest Ken....just sitting here pondering my next poetic move....dana

[m.s.early]

and you wrap it up in ugly paper, but you still can't hide the light inside. I was just telling my sister that art is something has never existed until you create it and someone's life is different after having experienced it. This is like that.

[h d e rushin]

so true m.s., art is what happens to someone so different than you, then presents it's many dimensions (or even just two dimensions) to the world as a result of his or her own culture.
If we are sensitive enough, sincere enough and true enough to ourselves to appreciate that other cultures live among us, then art (the act not the person) is what is rational. Thank you my friend....dana

[Corset]

love makes you do stupid s**t, but you can't deny the shine of it, can't fake it. You told me you would do what ever i say, and I say this poem deserves your face on it.

[h d e rushin]

I love you so much.....

[Corset]

sure, but do ya mean it?

[1VJ]

Life is surely convoluted & hairy at best, yet we rise above when given the slightest fortuitous chance. Your poetry is always down to earth, somewhat raucous and relatable.

[h d e rushin]

"raucous and relatable".......oh yeah! I love that Paloma.........thank you my friend....dana

[Ed Hart]

just like walking down the street with a machine gun killing everyone in sight...maybe we don't die, but we get full of holes...there are unfolded and pink worlds, and there are real and important worlds, and you keep your headlights on the latter and make them f*****g shine

[h d e rushin]

thank you dearest Ed for your kind insight dear friend....dana

[jacob erin-cilberto]

you meet someone real...and it is down and dirty...but makes you happy...because she isn't a fairy tale, she isn't an unattainable movie star type...she's just real, with flaws...but full of love...

yes, Freda..."now that you're gone, all that's left is a band of gold"

i remember larry lujack playing that song one day on WLS...and saying "if i have to play this song one more time, i'll kill myself"

i always love the grittiness of your work, dana.

it moves me into different universes..and almost always into ones i have lived in.

thank you for that..."sunshine, blue skies, please go away" well, they often do , whether we want them to or not.

[h d e rushin]

thank you my dear Jacob.. for being a responsive voice when I needed one the most.....dana