“Recessionary Bliss”
I:
obscure mind
a heartless drum
a harrowing notice
payments have been delayed, sir.
breathing in and out the same
the noise the same
the view from the window
the leafless branches
the sun shining
through
just right
like a spider’s lace
there through
the window
damnation pays
bills
a heartless drum
a harrowing notice
we have not received your payment, sir.
historical lines are standing
a standing ovation
is now upon us
through the flicker
of thought
the candle holds still into the wind.
breathing in and out the same
the noise the same
the view from the street
never seemed so much like porcelain
on a tray
and we’re high out here
down here
below the limelight
a heartless drum
a harrowing notice
the payment is in the mailbox.
II:
a reasonable fee
undermining
while
mining the time
like it was
a job
for cowboys
exterior walls
all facing inward
now
all minds coming
back home
for the turkey
and the rolls
your payment has not yet been received on our end, sir.
harrowing blood types
hollow interiors
paying
back
the
debt.
III:
as the tile turns colder
in the winter months
and the rain
ceases
or turns to snow
or ice
or both again
as the frost
accumulates onto
the walls
and then melts
off again
turning to moisture
in the afternoon
turning to mold
again
in the summer
as the breath
blows into
the room
colder than
night
warmer than
blankets
as the coffee pot
howls
another two or three
cups
overdone
as the lamp flickers
faulty wiring and
all
as the cat chirps
a cry
whining
for breakfast
as the heart chirps
a cry
whining
for life
as the lover
stays
sleeping
in the bedside
the only one understanding
the state of things.
IV:
we have already notified the state of your situation, sir.
and haven’t they
yet
gotten the point?
as the cigarette rolls
between
fingertips
a harrowing lifestyle
still
there are stillborn
dreams
inside
the head
there are momentary
hazes
from slipping
cotton
in and out
of the gums
the cracking
of skin
the air
around the fingers
bleeding
through the
water
another cold shower
we are prepared to notify the attorney general’s office, sir.
yesterday’s garbage
today’s dinner
and now the chicken
no longer
holds a crunch
or a proper chew
as the chomping
goes through another
day or more
and in this moment
when congress
said
that pizza was a vegetable
born out of romance
the harrowing drum still pounding
the jazz trumpets
all walloping into
some strange new form
the old women down
at the laundromat
have become
fear
have
felt
the strange
prangs of
fear
change is afoot
and here
the frost
still
exists
still breathes
and grows
upon
the walls.
V:
recessionary bliss
is upon us
at least now
in the spring
there are still leaves
blowing circles
across the yard
and the landlord never pays attention to this
the telephone doesn’t exist
it only comes now
in the mind
like so
I cannot allow you to delay any longer, sir.
VI:
the lover
now demands
change
pace
and heart
now
similar
as she walks
her feet
bring noise
as she stands
on the edge of
the noise
she makes
much sense
from the little left
who believe in her
the lover
wants out
wants outside
wants
the frost to stop
wants the phone
to stop
again, the phone
no longer real
no longer
a reliable
friend
sitting next to you
at a table
somewhere
in some part
of southwestern
Ohio
and still the voice calls out
sir, the payment we received was insufficient.
VII:
an army recruiter appears
he breaks
the hinges
on the door
the buzzer no
longer sounds
the electricity
has been dismantled
there remains an atomic idea
in the bedroom
the lover is nowhere to be seen
still
sir, a third party has contacted us on your behalf, your account has been credited.
the recruiter
never makes
clear
his intention
until his pants fall
down around
the ankles
a harrowing drum
a door without hinges
a life without frost
still nowhere
close
to here
as the mountains came down
around
and the flood walls
failed
there began
a silence
no dignity was left
simply a shaved head
bound
and singing out
freedom
VIII:
in the field there
was torment
talking about
lives
and lines
were drawn
there was no more
cubism
or intellectual
stimulation
only triggers and points
of intrusion
the locals
never believed
in anyone
rightfully so,
supposedly
when can we expect you back in the area then, sir?
speeding by
came
a sound
silence pulled
at the heels
and the heels
were already weak
from the bags
of hot lunch
and then
there
amongst the fallen
the loudest
noise
of peace came
and there were lights
no more telephones
no more reminders
and the lover
she was there
walking up with ice cream
cones in both
hands
IX:
back in the
frost
the leaves
were still gone
though slowly
a harrowing drum
though slowly
a silence of silence
the buds on the tree
still cold
yet growing warmer
somehow
the cold coming in
and out
the lover
by the window
waiting
all was resting
on knees
there was a thunder coming
out through her throat
and everything
made silence
seem like the daylight
please return our call as soon as possible, your account is 39 days past due.
X:
now
in silence
still without a telephone
that still
rings
the frost
still present
the lover
curled
softly
between
blankets
brought home
from the wartime.
XI:
here now with hope
never realizing
parts of the
time
sounds of shrieks
nightmares of silence
developing into
calm
levels of dependance
beliefs began
appearing
side-door memories
wallowing
in their own filth
around then
belittling herself
the lover began
to ache
other parts of hope
still look back
onto this
and more parts
feel ever
differently
than the light
sometimes she
would escape
herself
but other times
not so much
rage
amassed itself
in her hands
in her feelings
for the past
can you say when you expect him home, madam?
life moving
too fast now
all blank verse
in feeling
all free verse
in action
the leaves turning
slower
than the color
of shoes
on the sidewalks
imagining a life
without him
imagining the silence
of heaven
birds perched on the fence
outside the window
everybody on the run
and obsessed with
premonition
so many noises
and just one hope
as a whisper says
stay strong.
XII:
as she walks away
from the window
a piano
hits a
high C
as lives compare
themselves
there beyond
the streetlamps
closing her eyes she waits for trumpets
a last kind of heart
hits the heart
as the plane lands
enough of this is left
and enough of this
knows how
to pack the bag
hostility buried in
bones
coming out
with it
all over
with it
now
no longer is there
a generation of men
simply ones infinitely-bound to boyhood
continuously the stars
crying down
over the roofs
and through the
woods
peace coming back
now
coming
along
down the highway.
XIII:
like actual men
words are never
spoken
simply
demons are carried
along the backs
of men
letting it rain
letting it rain
letting it rain
it’s strange what highways can remember
the person you are trying to reach has a voice mailbox that has not been set up.
XIV:
to mime
is to figure
out
and home again
the lover can
rejoin
in the sight of him
the frost vacant
the frost as vacant
as his eyes
the bedroom
atomic
in principal
waits to be
seized upon
and the trumpets still blare
we have you set up for monthly installments beginning on the 21st, is that correct?
no more
from the folks
downstairs
the ceiling as quiet
as dawn
the angels slow dancing
in the arms
of sinners
occasionally the lover is
reminded of herself
and shit begins again
telephones ringing
and shit throwing itself
upon the front door
through our communication with the bank, it appears the account in question has been closed.
from silence
returns
a harrowing drum
and so as the autumn
begins to
lose the light
memory is reminded
that frost
seems
less optional.
XV:
the lover
packs her
suitcase
something pearl in color
containing
much less than
she brought in
the road ahead
of her
much less visible
than the frost
she knew
things were going
on
behind dumpsters
at the end of alleyways
she knew
things were going
on
in the middle
of boulevards
and behind school
desks
in the minds of children
all over
and
then
she walked out of the frost
counting each
step with the
passing of
headlights
the streetlamps
seemed inviting
her heart felt less
frigid
though
still warm to
the touch.
XVI:
stealing
what remained
of her
the lover
fell victim
to the silence
telephones
no longer
lingering
in the air around
her bedside
the thoughts
turned
rancid
soured
as if milk
was left
alone
weeks turned
to months
the levies began
to crumble
around her eyes
there was a space
empty
parking lots
seemed inviting
there was a bottle
of gin involved.
_______________________
Joshua Robert Long lives and sleeps in Yellow Springs, Ohio. He is the author of Translating The Avenues and Mixtape (both by Walleyed Press). He also regularly shares his work via joshuarobertlong.com