The protestations
\u2014 the kicking and screaming \u2014
where did we think horsehairs
came from
how do you get chicken soup
if not from a chicken<\/p>\n\n\n\n
what did we really think
of this reality thing<\/p>\n\n\n\n
at night, unguarded
in our heart of hearts
at the poker game,
hurtling in the dark
do we bet on ourselves
as Americans<\/p>\n\n\n\n
water and blood,
and skin and porosities and bloomy smells
from closeness, from love,
what did we think bodies were made of
if not bodies that touch and hold,
that tremble, improvise endless encounters until they <\/p>\n\n\n\n
don\u2019t you don\u2019t
go down a dark alley lightly
even if you are stupid, or American<\/p>\n\n\n\n
you go to the Blues
straight-up, all-American art
lugging lowdown bad news
you moan and groan
knowing reality is your dance partner
not asking who leads<\/p>\n\n\n\n
you begin to play with woe
compete, restate, elaborate,
find the slinky horn, mockery,
human pulse in the drum beat
tragedy is to be stuck in a single mode
and joy improvisational \u2014 all elegance,
meditation, intentional\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cJoy is not for the faint of heart,\u201d
says Robin Coste Lewis, riffing on Clifton
as I riff on Albert Murray, my mother,
Getting old is not for babies.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The protestations \u2014 the kicking and screaming \u2014where did we think horsehairs came fromhow do you get chicken soupif not from a chicken what did we really think of this reality thing at night, unguarded in our heart of heartsat the poker game, hurtling … Continue reading