Little bitty pretty one.

for Chris who died this morning of HIV

Most Black folk eyebrows stick up tactless. Years of working on old cars will do that.

Reaching your hand past warm radiators, spinning belts and hums. I admit to it's hypnotic

like a small child that lives in such a landscape of gears. Hence, I, for one, believe in

evolution. How else to explain mayonnaise or an old mans refusal? Dear Chris:

we stood as one with our backs to the strobe of another mans disco; chocolate statues. Fire

and conc had slicked our hair back so much that the strong wind had failed. And

individual evolving, where we bring the bones of the lost to Robert Lowell to pray his confessions over.

It takes, as old folks say, failures in life that term limit you closely to the songs kept safe as dreams.

Every window passed is a wife. Every long walk, a child extravagant, peculiar, free. Every tree branch the

arms of a lover.a circumnavigation you grip like a poet who some deepened magic turned farmer. So

why do the large sparrows act as if this is the last food/feeding? Why do they shake their grey wings

like the lyrics of a Delfonic's song? After bread, flight takes us all on, then, new meanings. It is not

just anything that air and the cold portends. No upward kiltered slanting. No cheap spins anymore past

the large buildings in downtown. I can see our lives abruptly landing, then transforming in a warm

place that good death precludes. So I shall go now, alone. You there. Me where nothing else is ordinary

anymore. then rot closely as you prematurely have begun to.

Reviews

[BBP]

I truly enjoyed this read. Your words played out and honored a true friendship and how things around us change over the years.

Very nicely written tribute. RIP to yours.

P.S. I loved the line of the birds shaking their wings like a Delfonics song. You sprinkled the motown and motor city all over this piece.

[h d e rushin]

thank you love and happy holidays to you.......dana

[jacob erin-cilberto]

ah, Thurston Harris...Little Bitty Pretty One----"cmon and talk to me"

there is sadness in this...but also words of tribute honoring the lost friend...

this reminds me of how Sexton felt when she lost her Friend Sylvia...and they had met taking a class from Robert Lowell...

and if the dead could come back and ask a question to us, it might be "didn't i blow your mind this time, didn't i?"
great piece, dana.

[h d e rushin]

thank you Jacob...I can't, no matter how much I try, to squeeze anything by you. You either know everything or your a mind reader....Whatever, your the best around here....thank you my friend./ dana

[barleygirl]

I take it this is a true story, so I'm extending my condolences for your loss (((HUGS))) I'm not that good at reading highly nuanced writing, so I don't always catch every reference you're making here, but I still very much enjoy your deeply-felt & unexpected way of expressing yourself. Love your analogies from a real hard-scrabble life, as well as those from the lightness of nature, combining into a sparkling tapestry to enshrine a life that ended too soon, too abruptly, too wastefully (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[h d e rushin]

thank you so much barleygirl for those kind remarks..and a happy holiday season for you and yours.....dana

[Coyote Poetry]

A amazing poem my friend. I work with many black people. They are good friends for many years. Bad year in Detroit. A lot of struggling and many useless death and murder. Your poem did deep. New world had forgotten the poor. Last lines, honest and true. My Ojibwa/Mexican father told me often. Education, education and more education. Don't allow anyone to look down at you. Powerful words dear friend. I liked them.
Coyote

[h d e rushin]

His memorial was yesterday....No book to sign, had to walk up a flight of stairs to a banquet hall that someone renamed a church. "Dad didn't want anyone to make a fuss over him" his daughter said to me. there are somethings you just can't make up about life. Or death for that matter.......thank you my friend for those kind remarks....dana

[Coyote Poetry]

I'm sorry for your lost and we can't forget the people who loved us and cared for us.

[emmajoy]

You;'ve invented a language of your very own, created as quick a pen as Ken S paints pon a canvas.. each word, however short, having a meaning found at many an instant thought.

Here you have a life shared, a special friend, a person of renown, places, faces and Reality's make believe. As with, 'Every window passed is a wife. Every long walk, a child extravagant, peculiar, free. Every tree branch the ~ arms of a lover.a circumnavigation you grip like a poet who some deepened magic turned farmer.

There comes a time when we tickele our fingers to the great outdoors, remove the outer layer we all adopt then, like your friend, Chris, float away to fill your pallete, you left behind but still the person who lives on.. and on.. in a special friend's care,, aware and fond ' I can see our lives abruptly landing, then transforming in a warm place that good death precludes. So I shall go now, alone. You there. Me where nothing else is ordinary.. anymore.' Sighhh

[h d e rushin]

dearest love: i'm sitting here reading the many voices in your yearly Christmas Collaboration . It grows larger every year, I think.
thank you this morning for your warm review and those kind words my friend....dana

[emmajoy]

Whenever i notice that you've posted a new something, i try to reach your words asap.. knowing that whatever you have to say will be worth more than a causal glance, dana.. always will be.. You grab the world and its residents in gentle but firm fingers and show how one can consider how words can speak aloud from a distance pon a distance. So I then sit, cuppa close by, and reach into your world, then leave it with a smile or a tear worth shedding. Thank you, friend.

And yes, isn't the collaboration a wonderful wonder.. always i. Our cafe friends do us proud every year.. reaching out to each other and hopefully feel brighter, less lonely, stronger.. and just plain happy!!! God bless dear friend@ Wishing you, your missus and family everything you wish for yourselves now, through the Holiday and in the new year.

[Corset]

Don't you mean every "bright window" a wife? :) cause I think you meant to say that but maybe forgot? Dana you are always so incredible, you take the very essence of the mundane things in memories and shape them into the most fascinating lines, I am forever your fan, and I am so sorry you have lost your friend.

[h d e rushin]

he said, and was very specific, that he didn't want a funeral. I guess if we are healthy then our ending is lower in estimation or importance. But if our ending is near, then the unimaginable is the lettering we place at the bottom of every photograph we've ever taken. The end of HIv is the delirium we read about at the end of the civil war. You know, where the fever fills the room and the body cries out to the heavens.
You are so pretty in this picture......dana

[Corset]

I would feel the same, in fact I've already made it clear I'm to be cremated and tossed to the wind somewhere , this one hit me hard because my sister Diane lungs collapsed because she caught a cold and it turned to pneumonia and she didn't know she was HIV positive, she hated doctors as much as I do, they so often misdiagnose or don't diagnose. They throw antibiotics at you and tell you to call them in the morning, which she didn't do of course and a few weeks later she in the hospital and dying with no hope of recovery.
I still remember hating my then husband for demanding that I come home, I still hate myself for bending to his will, I still remember the kiss I blew her from the door , the tubes in her nose she would not leave in, she wanted to go, she begged my older sister to let her go. I wasn't there, I will never forgive myself for not being there. I'm sure she was happy to have one less person blubbering over her, she's a Scorpio too, I was born on her birthday, I was her gift.

[h d e rushin]

the job of journalist in todays world is to sort thru the many stories to find the bad ones, then the good ones to counter the bad ones. The role (job) of the poet, I believe, is no less argumentative. We sort thru the many to find the bad, then we find the good and by comparison it seems so soothing. When my time comes, I too want to be tossed to the flames or torn apart by wild beasts and devoured. No martyrdom. No flags raised at my grave site on my birthday. No doves released to the blue sky. No songs sung, no tubes up my nose, no blubbering relatives and especially no resuscitation. We have so much in common dearest love. I hate doctors because I loath their office lights and their bathroom mirrors which always make my face look bigger and my nose larger than it is. And it's true, they only prescribe and rarely offer any advice other than the obvious. Loose weight. Exercise more. Stay on your med's/ //// so sorry about the loss of your sister.....dana

[Corset]

[Nipplegrinder]

This is so well done!! I love the way you use two and three word metaphors and similes.
I'm sorry for your loss.

Genuinely,
K

[h d e rushin]

thank you dear friend for those kind words.....dana

[Beccy]

There are no doormen at the gates of heaven and entry is free to all, which as it should be.

We all live best we can, some more so than others, our experiences gradually becoming indistinguishable from our expectations; and sooner or later we all fly, hoping we leave something good behind, like your Little bitty pretty one has.

I shall never tire of your good heart and able pen.

Beccy. x

[h d e rushin]

dearest love: thank you so much for those kind remarks. and it is true, "there is no doorman at the gates of heaven". Great line......dana