tags: Frank Stanford
from “Blue Yodel of the Desperado”
I went to New York to leave you
Flowers of blood and light
In the Picture Shows I dreamed
Of your birthmark in the shape of a pistol
There you were alone and asleep
In your bed like a lake
And your Father watched over you
And his land
As always you slept naked
With the windows wide open
The down on the small of your back
Was like dust on the guitar
Holding up the pane
I believe you left strawberries
And a glass of water
Untouched on the desk
There were ashes hidden in your drawers
And your fingers smelled like backwater…
I wanted to ride down to where I come from
On an appaloosa
And take you away for good
I wanted to tie your hands with my belt
And watch you stare at the campfire
In the mountains not saying a word
So it was in this dream
I gave you things to eat
So you would speak to me
I watched you grow silent and hungry
Like the middle of the night…
The first time you wept like a wooden boat
Was just launched
The sounds of the night…
At dawn you said you were thirsty
Even the darkest night must give in
When you spoke
It was hard for me to say a word
I couldn’t open my mouth
It was like being underwater
A bird came from nowhere
And lighted on your wrist
In the dream it drank from your palm
You stroked its throat and I could have sworn
Your finger was on the trigger
The wind came up you looked away
You were always cold…
When luck and money ran out
I deserted you somewhere in South America…
And stowed away on the first rig I saw
A ship full of wild horses
bound for America
I hid below with the animals that were
To be broken at sea
More than once I put my teeth to the tapaderas
Hunting the musk of your white feet…
I had nightmares about the vessel
Going down with the horses…
My sleep was like a long swim…
I dreamed they brought you aboard
To commend you to the sea
I dreamed you rode off to your wedding sidesaddle
And the only thing you let between your legs
Was the melancholy blood of the cello
You with your instinct for music and danger
Always without escort…
(Source: katherinerebeccanoble)
