American Poetry Now: Pitt Poetry Series Anthology

Jim Daniels

 4 JiM danieLs Jim Daniels’sbooksof poemsincludeStreet,withthephotographsof CharleeBrodsky;ShowandTell:NewandSelectedPoems;BlessingtheHouse; Blue Jesus;NoPets;M-80;PunchingOut;andPlaces/Everyone.Heisalsotheauthor of eightchapbooksof poetry,twobooksof shortstories,twoscreenplays, includingDumpster,anindependentfeaturefilmthathealsoproduced, andtheone-actplayHeartof Hearts.Heistheeditororcoeditorof four anthologiesof poetry,includingLetterstoAmerica:ContemporaryAmerican PoetryonRaceandAmericanPoetry:TheNextGeneration.Danielshasreceived fellowshipsfromtheNationalEndowmentfortheArtsandthePennsylvania CouncilontheArts,andhasbeenawardedaPushcartPrize.Anativeof Detroit,heiscurrentlyaprofessorof EnglishatCarnegieMellonUniversity inPittsburgh,wherehedirectsthecreativewritingprogram Photo by Jen Saffron  4 JiM danieLs Raw October Wetosseggs atcars,houses, CrazyEddiechases usdownthestreet Larryrips hisshirtonafence Fredlosesashoe throughthebackyards weoutrun yappingdogs,getaway cleantosmokecigarettes behindNortheastTrucking. Wepryoff hubcaps flingthemtoward thepuffywhitemoon theyclatterandroll echoupanddown thestreet. Whydowedothis? Somebodyshouldcatchus andsmackusaroundalittle. Eventuallytheydo. Digger Pays Off the Mortgage Youwritethefinalcheck, lickthefinalstamp. Lorettasmiles, handsonyourshoulders. That’sthat. Yousettheenvelopeaside andpullhertoyourlap. Kissheronthecheek. 0 4 JiM danieLs Thinkof alltheextramoney we’llhaveeachmonth,shesays. Howarewegoingtospendit? Collegeforthekids,maybe. Maybewecangetaplaceupnorth? Giveusbiggerallowances,yourdaughter saysfromthedoorway.Biggerallowances? Iwasgettingreadytocutyouoff— timeforyoutogetajob. Noway.She’sfifteen.Shemakesaface, stompsaway.Lorettagetsup. Dishes,shesays,peckingyouhard ontheforehead. YouwatchTV,yourusualshows,thenthenews. Everyone’sinbed.Youturnoutthelamp byyourchairandlookoutthefrontwindow atthespotonyourlawn whereyouplantedthreetrees, wheretheyalldied. Digger’s Territory Somewouldsay there’snotmuchto alifelivedonyourstreet. Theymightsayyou’redumb youwatchtoomuchTV youdrinktoomuch fartandbelchandlaughtooloud dressfunny,eattoomanyburgers. Buttonightafterwork afteryouwashyourhands eatagoodmeal wrestlewiththedogalittle 0 4 JiM danieLs Thinkof alltheextramoney we’llhaveeachmonth,shesays. Howarewegoingtospendit? Collegeforthekids,maybe. Maybewecangetaplaceupnorth? Giveusbiggerallowances,yourdaughter saysfromthedoorway.Biggerallowances? Iwasgettingreadytocutyouoff— timeforyoutogetajob. Noway.She’sfifteen.Shemakesaface, stompsaway.Lorettagetsup. Dishes,shesays,peckingyouhard ontheforehead. YouwatchTV,yourusualshows,thenthenews. Everyone’sinbed.Youturnoutthelamp byyourchairandlookoutthefrontwindow atthespotonyourlawn whereyouplantedthreetrees, wheretheyalldied. Digger’s Territory Somewouldsay there’snotmuchto alifelivedonyourstreet. Theymightsayyou’redumb youwatchtoomuchTV youdrinktoomuch fartandbelchandlaughtooloud dressfunny,eattoomanyburgers. Buttonightafterwork afteryouwashyourhands eatagoodmeal wrestlewiththedogalittle  4 JiM danieLs afteryougrababeer andsitwithyourfamily onyourporchsharingalaugh withacoupleneighbors whilethesunsetsbehind thebowlingalley,afteramanparks hiscarcarefullybehind yourImpalauponblocks andwalksstiff upyourdriveway inhissuitandbriefcaseandperfecthair andholdsoutasofthand, youallsmileateachother becausenomatterwhatheknows you’regoingtoteachhim afewthings. Still Lives: Sweat Theoldwomanpleadswithherson toleaveaneighboralone— afightoveraten-speed. Shediesfromaholeinhergut. Theoff-speedice-creammusic twistsitself intotherhythmof asiren. Wordsbarelydentthisambulanceair. Policestandunderastreetsign wherenothingpointsintherightdirection. Theson’seyes,hishandstwistingincuffs, signthesnakethatswallowsourlives. Theeyesof thepolicearescoopedout bytinyspoons,therepeatedscenes. Theneighborhugswhatlies betweenhisarms:Idon’tgotno bike.Sweatdripsdownforeheads,  4 JiM danieLs afteryougrababeer andsitwithyourfamily onyourporchsharingalaugh withacoupleneighbors whilethesunsetsbehind thebowlingalley,afteramanparks hiscarcarefullybehind yourImpalauponblocks andwalksstiff upyourdriveway inhissuitandbriefcaseandperfecthair andholdsoutasofthand, youallsmileateachother becausenomatterwhatheknows you’regoingtoteachhim afewthings. Still Lives: Sweat Theoldwomanpleadswithherson toleaveaneighboralone— afightoveraten-speed. Shediesfromaholeinhergut. Theoff-speedice-creammusic twistsitself intotherhythmof asiren. Wordsbarelydentthisambulanceair. Policestandunderastreetsign wherenothingpointsintherightdirection. Theson’seyes,hishandstwistingincuffs, signthesnakethatswallowsourlives. Theeyesof thepolicearescoopedout bytinyspoons,therepeatedscenes. Theneighborhugswhatlies betweenhisarms:Idon’tgotno bike.Sweatdripsdownforeheads,  4 JiM danieLs underarms,nothingliketears. Kidsonbikesridelaughingincircles. Theambulancetakesthemother. Thepolicetaketheson. Theneighborfollowsthetracks downhisarm:Idon’tgotno,Ican’t getno.Maybethere’salittlemoreroom onoursmallporchesof summersweat. Maybealittleless. Trouble at the Drive-In Theskyisgrayanditwillbe rainingsoonandwe’rewaitinginline forthedrive-in,theoneonEightMile, theborderbetweenDetroitandWarrenandtheanger isstewingjustlikealways,everyday gunspointedatourowndumbheads,everyday somebodyelsedumbenoughtopullthetrigger becausewe’remad,madandsickanddumb andwe’regonnagetourselvesalittlepieceof something evenif itmeanstakingitawayfromsomeoneelse whodon’thavemuch,orelsewe’resickandtired of everybodytaking,sowe’regonna protectourselves,bygod,thoughgod don’tseemtohelpmuchhere—he’sgettingripped off too—andweallwanttohaveoursay onewayoranother,sothere’salotof guns inalotof hands,yes,I’mthinkingallthishere asitstartstopour,fuckingrainlikecrazy, andIsayfucktoletyouknowImean business,justlikeIcarryagun, soit’sfuckingrainingandif youdon’tlikeit thenfuckinggetlostbecauseI’mstillgoing tothemovies—aClinttriple-header— Fistful,AFewDollarsMore, andGood/Bad/Ugly,  4 JiM danieLs underarms,nothingliketears. Kidsonbikesridelaughingincircles. Theambulancetakesthemother. Thepolicetaketheson. Theneighborfollowsthetracks downhisarm:Idon’tgotno,Ican’t getno.Maybethere’salittlemoreroom onoursmallporchesof summersweat. Maybealittleless. Trouble at the Drive-In Theskyisgrayanditwillbe rainingsoonandwe’rewaitinginline forthedrive-in,theoneonEightMile, theborderbetweenDetroitandWarrenandtheanger isstewingjustlikealways,everyday gunspointedatourowndumbheads,everyday somebodyelsedumbenoughtopullthetrigger becausewe’remad,madandsickanddumb andwe’regonnagetourselvesalittlepieceof something evenif itmeanstakingitawayfromsomeoneelse whodon’thavemuch,orelsewe’resickandtired of everybodytaking,sowe’regonna protectourselves,bygod,thoughgod don’tseemtohelpmuchhere—he’sgettingripped off too—andweallwanttohaveoursay onewayoranother,sothere’salotof guns inalotof hands,yes,I’mthinkingallthishere asitstartstopour,fuckingrainlikecrazy, andIsayfucktoletyouknowImean business,justlikeIcarryagun, soit’sfuckingrainingandif youdon’tlikeit thenfuckinggetlostbecauseI’mstillgoing tothemovies—aClinttriple-header— Fistful,AFewDollarsMore, andGood/Bad/Ugly,  4 JiM danieLs andallthesegood,bad,uglypeopleareleaning ontheirhornsandsomeassholecutshiscarintotheline upfrontandthisbigfatguygetsoutof hiscarandruns uptothatcarandhe’sscreamingfuckyouso hemeansbusiness,andhe’spoundingonthewindows yankingonthedoor,andhe’sgettingsoaked,but hedon’tgiveafuck,heismeandheisyou, andtheguyinthecarismeandyou andwe’reallkickingeachother’sasses whilethebossesaresafeanddry inGrossePointorWestBloomfieldorwherever thefucktheylive,laughingatTheNewYorkercartoons andthinkingWoodyfuckingAllenisagenius,letme tellyou,Clintain’tnogenius,butIunderstand hismovies,andIunderstandwhat’sgoingon upahead,andI’mhearingsirens,andmeandyou, we’reinthistogether,buddy,justacoupledummies likethosetwoupthere,andnobody’slettingusin andnobody’sgettingout,andit’sonlyamatterof time tillsomebodypullsagun. Blessing the House Istepoutof thecarandstare attheflathouseswiththeirbristlybushes wildandshortlikemyoldhair. Iwanttocutmyhairandspreaditoverthissnowyyard likemyownashes,Iwanttocurlinsideasidewalksquare myeartotheground,cupped,listening—whatcouldIbring backtolife?WouldIheartheroughchalkscrawlovercement? Thishousethepriestblessedoverthirtyyearsago whenthelawnwasmudandboards.Blessthishouse, Ithink,standinginthestreet.Thewindblowscold butIknowthiswind,itsharshfront. Don’ttrytobullyme,Isay.Iamhome andmyhandsaretrembling,Iamsighing.  4 JiM danieLs andallthesegood,bad,uglypeopleareleaning ontheirhornsandsomeassholecutshiscarintotheline upfrontandthisbigfatguygetsoutof hiscarandruns uptothatcarandhe’sscreamingfuckyouso hemeansbusiness,andhe’spoundingonthewindows yankingonthedoor,andhe’sgettingsoaked,but hedon’tgiveafuck,heismeandheisyou, andtheguyinthecarismeandyou andwe’reallkickingeachother’sasses whilethebossesaresafeanddry inGrossePointorWestBloomfieldorwherever thefucktheylive,laughingatTheNewYorkercartoons andthinkingWoodyfuckingAllenisagenius,letme tellyou,Clintain’tnogenius,butIunderstand hismovies,andIunderstandwhat’sgoingon upahead,andI’mhearingsirens,andmeandyou, we’reinthistogether,buddy,justacoupledummies likethosetwoupthere,andnobody’slettingusin andnobody’sgettingout,andit’sonlyamatterof time tillsomebodypullsagun. Blessing the House Istepoutof thecarandstare attheflathouseswiththeirbristlybushes wildandshortlikemyoldhair. Iwanttocutmyhairandspreaditoverthissnowyyard likemyownashes,Iwanttocurlinsideasidewalksquare myeartotheground,cupped,listening—whatcouldIbring backtolife?WouldIheartheroughchalkscrawlovercement? Thishousethepriestblessedoverthirtyyearsago whenthelawnwasmudandboards.Blessthishouse, Ithink,standinginthestreet.Thewindblowscold butIknowthiswind,itsharshfront. Don’ttrytobullyme,Isay.Iamhome andmyhandsaretrembling,Iamsighing. Thecardoorslams.Iclapmyhands forthehellof it,aclaponastreetcorner echoingalittle,amongfriends. OnceIstoodhereforhours tryingtohitthestreetlightwithasnowball, toleaveawhitesmudge.Ihaveleftnosmudge, nothingIcouldcallmine.Thegreyskypresses downonthesesmallhouses,onmyparents’house anditssquareslab.Theyareinside, maybechangingthechannelontheTV,maybe grabbingabeerandabowlof chips...