I once had a fellow living across the street from me that was different. Living in the same house for 30 years in a transient (at best) neighborhood I have seen them come and go. Some very nice people and some moonhowlers.
This particular young man was exactly as described below. He was off, way off when he was moved in and abandoned. Not only was he a yeller at the moon and constantly in a state of war he had a love for machetes. There was a sick old birch tree in his front yard that he chopped at with his blade until enough of the rotted trunk was removed he could push it over. I remember the great howl as it toppled and his standing on it like he had just conquered a wild land.
One day they came for him, took him away, and when he returned he was gone. No more a descendant of the wildness.
That was ten years ago-- Most of them in transit around here never really stay long Enough to see their true evolution. I wish him well if he still lives.
This particular young man was exactly as described below. He was off, way off when he was moved in and abandoned. Not only was he a yeller at the moon and constantly in a state of war he had a love for machetes. There was a sick old birch tree in his front yard that he chopped at with his blade until enough of the rotted trunk was removed he could push it over. I remember the great howl as it toppled and his standing on it like he had just conquered a wild land.
One day they came for him, took him away, and when he returned he was gone. No more a descendant of the wildness.
That was ten years ago-- Most of them in transit around here never really stay long Enough to see their true evolution. I wish him well if he still lives.
DANCING IN THE
MOONLIGHT SHADOW OF MADNESS
It is, as is proper, that all of us
are dressed in black,
light skin surrounded in pitch and
ash.
Funeral views should be shown some
respect
as we mourn mostly without the
color of fear.
Though Mars was wearing a red tie
warning us away.
The rest of us just wore blackto better blend in
with moon made shadows.
I don’t know why he left his house
at 4 in the morning,
but leave he did and I standing in
the shadow
don’t understand the ghosts of the
night that haunt him.
Every night.
When inside he lets his presence be
known through the brick walls.
When he leaves making certain the
latch catches
his furious
inability to communicateis locked.
Sealed against sanity
that may not enter
I don’t know which demon had him but the rest of us,
night beings at
home in madness and darkness,
watched as he yelled murder at me watching from shadow.
I listened quietly continuing our
dance of daring the madness enter.
Yet staying silent as is respectful
when one looks
on at whatever it is, what once was a
man
now lying in tumult in a
coffin not yet built.
Just another piece of snot flung
from the finger of a family
that can no longer care ‘less they
wind up poorer,
less rich in the daylight that colors
the darkness where they live.
We here left behind are tinged with
the hues of black suit
and rants of death and
the destruction about to happen.
I am pleased I chose the right
clothes for the occasion
regardless of what the box being
made is going to hold.
© M Durfee
11-15-10
6:15AM and he leaves his house
again making sure the door is latched
the clouds have come and covered
the viewers and mourners
the conversation is no longer laced
with murder and motherfucker
I know he sees me with eyes at last and he asks "what's up"
I take a long pull from my
cigarette look to the cloud covered sky
where the family flung us both away and answer "apparently just
you and me."
