UNDER
THE HAT OF OHIO
A
break in the weeds
lying
in the marshes
his
body lay
poured
over another alcoholic bend
Chased
away by another night of rivalry
Voices
of anger taking turns pitching
Claims
of his mouth ascending the bastions of mausoleums
of
dead poets fame
You
cannot tear history apart
No
son of theirs could ever have been a grandfather of yours
No
daughter of theirs could ever had been cousin to the generations of your
family
Scurrying
clouds listen do not hesitate
Birds
rush South get away from what is known to be coming
Under
the Hat of Ohio is idle
Sullied
in the twigs and debris
Here
comes another wind brush it again on the head
Awaken
the foul one
utter
another word about the past
claim
not just allegiance
claim
not just reverence or appreciation
claim
not just that you understand the words of the dead poets
claim
that they came down the steps of the pyramids
visits
from Mont Alegre and the Villa Diodati
What
does it mean to know a woman
If
a man knows a woman is it always intimate?
Have
you not known a woman’s smile or her sassy talk
her
fingers on piano keys stirring the imagination
lift
the candle nearby and see if a lovers moan can be heard
there
is a hand around the throat of a passerby
whispering
we
are looking for him
the
answer from the companion
a
finger pointing to the sea
there
is where I last seen him
So
much for double talk
Friends
will flip coins to remain free
It
is easy to erase the past in the modern world
The
field is ripe with liars
They
grow with the leaves
heaved
the cutting edge of tie neck job placement
surviving
corporate schemes twisted and mangled
the
dream of newsmen folks with big tongues
splitting
the truth as breaking news
did
you hear about the descendant of Keats, Shelley, and Byron?
Believe
that if you can.
A
woman of a Sheppard son laid with one
Some
from an inn of Geneva said it was two
There
is not a man alive thought it could be three.
A
child of sport came forth bearing words of trilogy
Some
said the child named Harold was Unbound
Gave
a gift of an ode to Rome walk quietly
for night has come
When
the heavy foot of time touched America
Pounding
on the ground
The
roar and fire of cannon sent bones into the air
Skin
was found hugging the trees
Dead
eye sockets lay like roots exposed
Ripped
from skulls exploded by war
A
poet took a pen to paper
and
showed us what the men were fighting for
for
and against the Indian
for
and against England
for
and against Slavery
for
and against gunslingers
and
whores and bank robbers and horse thieves
reaching
across time making bridges out of rainbows
and
silk clothes to separate the shadows
and
hands of dirt and hands of love
this
child carried a story of who it was
a
famous Hat dedicated to an ancestor
inscribed by the three
So
was this all just a misunderstanding
Two
on a trail talking on the Lake Geneva
This
maid of hire sent with the Hat to Italy
A
late night affair none could see.
Signed
with the symbols of legislature to govern and guide her
A
bright spot in her life that made her mind freed
And
when it was said she was pregnant was this the real seed
Down
through the generation the story was told.
Did
you hear about the descendant of Thoreau, Twain, and Crane
Also
wakes up to the sounds of Langston, Toomer, and Hurston
Walks
under the Hat of Ohio like an invisible man
Something
was in the family
Walden
Pond appeared on the list of recognition
Then
came a great gathering
Shaking
the nation of a dejected people
A
new people, full of soul started a renaissance
Rome
was the old city of the old world
This
was New York and in it grew a Harlem, a requiem
A
mass for rhythmic pioneers on a train moving heaven and earth
This
Child slid in off stage swallowing the words whole
After
many years the road tossed him up in Ohio
A
fancy girl took him and the Hat this
past faded in her warm arms
The
ugly Hat imprisoned on a shelf on the third floor
When
he died she released the prisoner to an admiring child
Under
the Hat of Ohio he became a stranger son
Signatures
of dead poets scribbled on the inside
some
had written verses of poetry
within
months he stood for this family
said
all these dead poets were his ancestors
Laughter
chased him from America Rome knew
nothing about it
It
was not a smart thing to say in England
Less
wise in Scotland
The
body of Child lies still in the marsh
No
one is looking for him
You
can’t change history
You
can’t tear it apart
You
can’t put yourself in everybody’s family
You
can’t hide with a hat sticking up above the marsh
They’ll
put your head under the water
And
deny the signatures and verse as faded and fake
Under
the Hat of Ohio you can only pretend
None
of the original romantics lived past thirty four
Geniuses
seldom get past forty most die young
O
what light breaks up the morning peace
Comes
with frenetic speed to finish all work
Carrying
labor on trays stacked to the sky
Impatient
for the wind to move
Genius
knows that before the day ends
There
will be no tomorrow for the thought it has today.
Where
is leisure and play?
Why
can’t the river stop or the clouds move backward across the sky
There
is one moment of stillness
One
step into a clearing where the elusive thing is born
Sitting
next to the genius are valleys, mountains and a tree
Exchanging
thoughts of what is to be.
And
when that light breaks into pieces
It
leaves the remains of a sculpture men can admire
From
another of their long dead sons.
Give
praise for the words of poets rocket us past the edge of today into
Tomorrow’s
tomorrow
Under
the Hat of Ohio signatures and verses of dead Poets go on living
Speaking in one voice: ”look at
what we gave you, look at what we have done
