Jimmy's Blues Read online

that I should think of it now.

  I never saw another one like it—:

  now, that I think of it.

  There was a red piece of altar-cloth,

  which had belonged to my father,

  but I was much too old for it,

  and I left it behind.

  There was a little brown ball,

  belonging to a neighbor’s little boy.

  I still remember his face,

  brown, like the ball, and shining like the sun,

  the day he threw it to me

  and I caught it

  and turned my back, and dropped it,

  and left it behind.

  I was on my way.

  Drums and trumpets called me.

  My universe was thunder.

  My eye was fixed

  on the far place of the palace.

  But, sometimes, my attention was distracted

  by this one, or that one,

  by a river, by the cry of a child,

  the sound of chains,

  of howling. Sometimes

  the wings of great birds

  flailed my nostrils,

  veiled my face, sometimes,

  from high places, rocks fell on me,

  sometimes, I was distracted by my blood,

  rushing over my palm,

  fouling the lightning of my robe.

  My father’s son

  does not easily surrender.

  My mother’s son

  pressed on.

  Then,

  I began to imagine a strange thing:

  the palace never came any closer.

  I began, nervously, to check

  my watch, my compass, the stars:

  they all confirmed

  that I was almost certainly where I should be.

  The vegetation was proper

  for the place, and the time of year.

  The flowers were dying,

  but that, I knew,

  was virtual, at this altitude.

  It was cold,

  but I was walking upward, toward the sun,

  and it was silent, but—

  silence and I have always been friends.

  Yet—

  my journey’s end seemed

  farther

  than I had thought it would be.

  I feel as though I have been badly bruised.

  I hope that there is no internal damage.

  I seem to be awakening

  from a long, long fall.

  My radio will never work again.

  My compass has betrayed me.

  My watch has stopped.

  Perhaps

  I will never find my way to the palace.

  Certainly,

  I do not know which way to turn.

  My progress has been

  discouraging.

  Perhaps

  I should locate the turning

  and then start back

  and study the road I’ve travelled.

  Oh, I was in a hurry,

  but it was not, after all,

  if I remember,

  an ugly road at all.

  Sometimes, I saw

  wonders greater than any palace,

  yes,

  and, sometimes, joy leaped out,

  mightier than the lightning of my robe,

  and kissed my nakedness.

  Songs

  came out of rocks and stones and chains,

  wonder baptized me,

  old trees sometimes opened, and let me in,

  and led me along their roots,

  down, to the bottom of the rain.

  The green stone,

  the scarlet altar-cloth,

  the brown ball, the brown boy’s face,

  the voice, in Norman’s Gardens,

  trying to say: I love you.

  Yes.

  My progress has been discouraging.

  But I think I will leave the palace where it is.

  It has taken up quite enough of my time.

  The compass, the watch, and the radio:

  I think I will leave them here.

  I think I know the road, by now,

  and, if not, well. I’ll certainly think of something.

  Perhaps the stars will help,

  or the water,

  a stone may have something to tell me,

  and I owe a favor to a couple of old trees

  And what was that song I learned from the river

  on one of those dark days?

  If I can remember the first few notes

  Yes

  I think it went something like

  Yes

  It may have been the day I met the howling man,

  who looked at me so strangely.

  He wore no coat.

  He said perhaps he’d left it at Norman’s Gardens,

  up-town, someplace.

  Perhaps, this time, should we meet again, I’ll

  stop and rap a little.

  A howling man may have discovered something I should know,

  something, perhaps, concerning my discouraging progress.

  This time, however,

  hopefully,

  should the voice hold me to tarry,

  I’ll be given what to carry.

  Amen

  No, I don’t feel death coming.

  I feel death going:

  having thrown up his hands,

  for the moment.

  I feel like I know him

  better than I did.

  Those arms held me,

  for a while,

  and, when we meet again,

  there will be that secret knowledge

  between us.