| Tyehimba Jess |
leadbelly vs. lomax at the modern language association conference, 1934
| a costume. dark overalls, handkerchief, and ugly-ass shitkickers, clutched like gifts in his outstretched hands chase the stink of mule dirt back into my head. now he wants me to wrap my music in a brown bag of coon to give them what folks ‘spect to see, says i need the genuine look of farm boy to sow blues’ dirty fingers between their ears i remember fame’s promises: $100 suits is what made me believe. $50 wing tips made me a convert. $5 cigars helped seal the deal. like always, dog-tongued anger laps at my palms, shrinks my bowels like a clenched fist |
an outfit. new blue jeans, clean head wrap, some simple, old, sturdy shoes are a proper field hand’s uniform, down-on-the-farm-familiar: dressing down - it raises gods dark enough to capture the authentic blues, bringing southland to a crowd that says they want to hear how it sounds for a black to scrape heaven’s dusty starlight out of hell. to tally up and close accounts - $3 for the coveralls, and they were on sale. $1 for the work boots, sold at half-price, and here, a handshake serves as contract. it’s strange, but, sometimes loathing bursts from his eyes, pummeling me - striking ‘cross my face |
| let’s face it. |
| i’m parole on parade, wanted poster on a short leash, biding time beneath the law of a master i chose myself. that faded rucksack of yassuh growing one load heavier with each slow grin stitched across my lips |
i’m an ex-con’s keeper, something I can’t much forget in this prison choked country - i cannot absolve this man of his greatest crime- the crime of race - binding us all to blood, cutting through skin, burning through history |
Tyehimba Jess
Abraham Smith is the second reader on this recording of leadbelly vs. lomax at the modern language association conference, 1934. - Ed.
Poem, copyright © 2004 by Tyehimba Jess
Appearing on From the Fishouse with permission
Audio file, copyright © 2004, From the Fishouse
Posted on February 20, 2005 5:49 AM