prague, venice and burl ives (or “another renting-the-walk-in-closet in-viola’s-house poem”)

by John Repp



Why collect Peace Corps brochures, call about foreclosures

in Cape May? Unappeasable hunger remains the reigning guess

though habitual cowardice & Aquarian dreaminess have ceded

 

no ground. Who was that masked man? my wife says. The Shadow

I say, chuckling over a cup of sodbuster coffee. Oh, I know

she says, plucking her three-hundredth basil leaf. I’ll leave

 

you to your questions. It’s fun (& unavoidable) to wallow

in the insoluble, no? Let’s test yes. Someone no one knows

how many years ago said I want to fuck you silly. Oh,

 

to have a come-to-Jesus talk with the haole whose brain

crystallized that diamond of syntax from aural slag only

to have Um, thanks squirm out his mouth! The Shadow

 

always knows, hungry ghost snuffling a fungal web

soon to fruit as The Incredible Shrinking Man reclines

on a toadstool, a fractal mandala black as basalt pulsing


on his left wrist. The evil in Everyone’s heart doesn’t lurk—

it basks, it sloshes, it kills & fucks joyously. The Corps

said forty wasn’t too old to dig wells & fire bricks & otherwise

 

do good in, say, Burkina Faso or Belize, where Viola caught

not just hepatitis, but the plague—in 1979! Labor renders

unto the Lord, or so Habitat for Humanity implies via blurry

 

spots the last community-access station in Pennsylvania

broadcasts between, say, a middle-school play & one

of Jazzy Jeff’s Hammond organ lessons. The Baptist camp

 

north of Newfield forbade cars, so how’d Marge the candler

get to work? How could fourteen homes huddled in the shade

of primeval oaks be a “camp”? I wanted to help Chuck Molzon

 

rewire his aunt’s cottage there, but voltage terrified me.

The denizens of Sunshine Park (Bare Right On Route 50!)

savored their heartiest summer when buying a bungalow

 

in Carney’s Point (let alone Cape May) wouldn’t for half

a century mean you’d need to shit gold nuggets to win

a sheriff’s sale & joining the Coast Guard could almost

guarantee no ‘Nam & the twelve-foot Shasta jacked up

behind Howard’s hadn’t disintegrated & anyone mucking

in similar material contradictions & historical coordinates

 

could pine for poverty in Paris or the South End or Brooklyn

or crave a raw frolic in the Great Egg Harbor River or moon

unto sickness for permanent bliss while sunk funkily

 

in a stupefying job & rented hovel (or Viola’s closet!) as sixteen

beloved bluesmen testified through a pair of stolen Jensens,

reconstituted potato flakes drenched in A & P Beef Gravy cooling

 

on gray formica in—1975? After one of my rare epiphanies,

my second shrink said Well, Freud wasn’t a plumber. After another,

he said The Unconscious doesn’t fuck around. How did Burl Ives

 

end up at Mount Auburn Hospital watching shattered anchorites

trudge through invisible blizzards? Slumped tear-soaked

in a red brocade armchair that smelled of stale farts, I’d shut

 

my eyes & hum “Have a Holly Jolly Christmas” till Dr. Burl

gently coaxed me back to the mundane muck of the present—

mallet-throb, temple-thrum, savor-free odyssey from sleep


to sleep. Replete with mangos, shortwave radio, a lithe

male nurse, the sweetest water outside Escanaba, Michigan

& fevers pulsing visions that made mescaline weak tea,

 

Viola’s convalescence sobered her not. Her sculptures sprouted

barbed wire, razor blades, Army surplus chest bandages,

Polaroids of muddy goats & she once slipped her sweats down

 

so I’d marvel at the nearly vanished bubo a few inches southeast

of her right hipbone. Oh, don’t worry! She emphatically did not

want to fuck me silly & vice-versa—no, really! I’d wager she’s 1)

 

kayaked the metaphysical rapids at whim these fifty years; 2)

pining for visions this minute; & 3) fashioned mobiles for the past

eighty-two days from linoleum scraps, crochet hooks, mussel shells,

 

spent cans of 3-in-1 oil, souvenir Minié balls & monofilament

as an Amex reel-to-reel funneled a LaMonte Young drone into air

acerbic, headlong, radiant Viola must this very second breathe,

 

please. Ah, the cozy freedom of pining! The hum & wet of it.

The Tom-&-Becky-in-the-cave of it—pining not for nostos

but for the Madrid bus terminal, Ship Bottom’s gargantuan

plane trees, Bonnyrigg, Mays Landing, Prague, Venice

& Phillipi, West Virginia. Shaddai be praised for the will

to power & its dissolution, for six sessions of the Talking Cure

 

& the plan that miraculously paid, for the wobbly human

schlepping in the shade of angels’ wings (or awnings) down

Powderhouse in the sopping blaze of dailiness. The more dug-in,

 

the more thought gets thought or so a note affixed to a June, 1978

cast of the I Ching has just reminded me. It takes a truckload

of digging (root cellars, graves, all those fire pits upon which

 

 

freezer grates glowed as crabs boiled & Carl Brown’s corn

roasted to black-speckled ambrosia) to find no number

of mangled or veil-parting metaphors (or dumbfuck clichés)

 

will ever suffice. Choose necessity said Hayden Carruth,

flint-scraped  anarchist,  years-long-not-quite-catatonic

devotee of plain talk & cordwood whose astringent poems

 

 

Viola gave me the moment I most needed them, saying

You’ll love these. Please I say. Please fuck me silly, oh Everything.



Photo of John Repp

BIO: John Repp is a writer, folk photographer, and digital collagist living in Erie, Pennsylvania. Sheila-Na-Gig Editions published his most recent book, Never Far from the Egg Harbor Ice House.

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