There I was
. . .
lost in a field of tall grass
I was out of my head
and drifted in a field that stretched
beyond anything I could ever imagine
So with nowhere else to go,
I sat for a while
and slipped into the warm cocoon
of an afternoon rush
My mind collapsed
I sank inward
folding down to the ground
slowly . . .
everything was slow
me, you,
everything . . .
like a crawl
Outside of me was meaningless.
you, the world,
anything and everything
everything was meaningless
the room was meaningless
the ash tray filled with cigarettes
the empty paper bag that had been there for weeks
the smell
the sound of tiny ambulances
that raced through
to take me away—
all meaningless
But inside of me, however
I gave into an infection,
which I tried my best to perfect
because after all,
the body is a temple
am I right?
So I tried to fix my church
as best I can
with a little helpful hint
of a dirty resurrection
In my mind, I was elsewhere
in my body, I was sunk on a floor.
There was a light bulb that hung from two wires
and dangled from a broken hole
in the middle of the ceiling.
I watched it
swaying in the air
looking sad and poor
as if it knew the room’s dilemma.
I could smell
my vomit
but that didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered
and that’s the point
See…
I always loved how euphoria came in
and shoved my thinking to the side
I loved how the world became dim
and sound became soft
like some quiet little lullaby we heard
back when we were little
Meanwhile—
Donny was much older than me
He was ready to show me something different
Donny sat nearby
I watched him prepare himself
He said, “Never let it get this bad, kid.”
This was a case of the older
warning me, the younger
to GET OUT NOW,
while I still could
but I never understood why
Why warn me in one hand
and then teach me how to fix with the other
Donny told me, “You should kick.”
“Get off this shit,”
and then he wiped the sickness from his mouth
He told me,
“You should find the book or something.”
To him, The Book meant the bible.
Donny grew up in the Baptist Church
Although, a sinner
(so to speak)
Donny carried a bible with him
He always quoted scriptures
which seemed to fit
Before he pushed, Donny told me,
“Stay away from the needle,”
and then he went on to push through,
puncturing his skin,
and then Donny just fell away.
I swear . .
The sound of his exhale
was a perfect description of how he felt:
Weightless and falling
in what we called
The Nod
It was summertime in the Bronx: 1989
Sweat rolled down the bridge of my nose.
I resumed and re-entered the room.
Donny was back at it.
Preaching, I mean
This time, Donny preached
about a passage from the Book of John.
He said, “I am the light of the world,”
and readied the syringe.
“He who follows me shall not walk in darkness . . .
but have the light of life”
Donny’s eyes began to water
as he shoved the pin to his vein
“I am the door,” he said
“I am the bread of life.”
Shoving in, Donny finished
“I am the good Shepard…”
And suddenly, God the father spoke
I saw me as I was
I saw my temple
my church
I dreamt of stained glass windows
and angels falling upside down and backwards
dying on their way down
like a counterweight
as I lifted my way up
I felt myself given to the shaft of light
which I accepted
. . . because I wanted to feel good
The things we chose to do
or should I say,
these so-called remedies we used
to beat the demons-
they never really worked
They never answered the unending questions
They just postponed them for a while . . .
Donny said,
“Surely goodness and mercy
shall follow me all the days of my life;
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
Man, I hoped so
Because this sickness was incredible
The Written Addiction 