Nevermore (on Autumn)
The deep, forested scent
Of Autumn with her rich eyes –
Pits of red dirt freshly dampened
By an evening rain –
Fills the room like the dancing smoke
Of incense whisping in a rain-touched breeze
Quiet like mist
Transforming to frost
Soft-spoken like thunder
Authoritatively commanding
A blood-tinged horizon bannered with badges of dying leaves
“Pay attention.”
She’s the bringer of death
She chases the fever away
Brought by Summer Man – a soon-to-be-forgotten idol
Like a wild angel
Searching to find heaven again
She makes Georgia
Sigh with the grief of never forgetting
Dreaming of that memory
Of what damages Autumn brought last year
“No more,” Georgia whispers
With the remaining summer crickets
To the oil-slick darkness
“Nevermore,” replies Autumn
A raven’s hacking chuckle
The Bar Is a Church
The bone-rattling timbre of Southern-flavored blues and rock
Devours the voices of drinkers lost in thought
As the cool night mellows into a new lemonade day
The hours of a fresh morning revealing what these people say
Yes, at night, the south renews its tattered faith
We dance and shake in our comfortable way
The air chilled like ice under a stream of Tanqueray
With minds lost in a moment that they cannot give away
Letting Georgia know that they cannot be saved
Not by Christ
By God
By Athena above
They feel the smooth burn
Of music heated by salt-scourged vocals
As the July sun’s rays release their grip on the locals
For at night
We cannot be judged
By priest
Or pastor
Or reverend
As the moon fills our souls
Like Sunday church serving bread unleavened
All of our cares are as lost as our minds
Drowned and sunk in the slow summer time
Let the Tanqueray pour into Coca Cola on ice
We take it in willingly like the spilled blood of Christ
In a smoky bar
Lit by forgotten stars
Our dreams come alive before they crash like cars
Our eyes drive through tears and fears
Our thoughts not deferred
And shared with others who feel unheard
Hanging onto each word
Georgia rejoices to hear the truth spill
From her children’s voices
Like a church choir on a hill
We are the black sheep that ran from the flock
Rescuing ourselves from religion on the rocks
We dance and we sing
Lost in a moment we’ll never get back
We keep it in devotion to ease the Southern sting
That punishes us for what we lack
Perversely trapped by day in the slipping sands
Of money and lost time
Our hearts take flight in a land of milk and honey
The bruised shadows like gifts of make-up from the night
Supported by constant shots and cans of beer
For this one moment, we’ve forgotten our fears
Trapped in eternal summer faith
At the church of the lost
The band plays July’s blues
Laced with lyrics of the South’s forgotten truth
Lost within our feverish muse
Like drug addicts that continue substance abuse
Hymns of sparkling lights
Worship in run-down places
We created for ourselves brand new spaces
Where we can think and speak to our thoughts
Where we hear Georgia sob for the souls of the lost
She rewards us with rainbows after the storm
And summers burning with fever
After Winter has worn
The trees and skies into shades of grey with painful abuse
Yea, she melts us with rays
Of wasp-sting days
Hot like the whip’s flay
Cools us with nights chilled by the stars
And alcoholic drinks as we talk at the bars
To sink everything that weighs our brains down
So we can let go before we start to drown
She melts us with gifts of butter and pain
Reminds us that we’re alive
That our struggle’s not in vain
Our veins flow with summer heat
And iced sweet tea
Our mouths scream the curse
Of our desperate plea
Lost in our eyes
That cracks our teeth
Sinking and sinking
Straight down to our bare feet
That walk for miles on forgotten dirt roads
While we sip from frothy Coca Cola floats
We dance and scream
Lost in a dream
That never forgets what remains unseen
That constantly breaths the air left unbreathed
