1. |
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Come, Fluttering Dove!
that wombed Christ
and wooed the Virgin.
Come, Spirit of Love
in Cupid's cult prefigured,
now in tongues of flame delivered
from our limited images,
singing how "the wonderful thing about Tiggers is
I'm the Only One."
Come, Three in One!
for now it's time for silly songs
concerning Adam Livingston
who tilled and kept the soil of
what was yet to be West Virginia
where my family went to ski
about two centuries
after these events.
We drove past houses
marked with a crescent moon.
Come, Crescent Moon!
illuminate my manuscript
cause I've got a lot of work to do.
Cradle me crescent as you cradled the kid
in Dreamworks Animation's logo,
he cast his line in the night
I'm casting mine for insight,
would you be
my Seat of Wisdom too?
Come, Spirit of Truth!
You've become our peer
so please peer-review
the paper I submit to you.
The sources seem scant
seem sometimes crude
and the principle artefacts in fact
are lost to time, and I find
things like this scandalize
minds inclined to dull
the precious stones sewn
in robes worn
by Catholic priests.
Come, Catholic Priest!
Come cassocked, come covered in controversy,
adverse to verses such as these,
that obfuscate thy ordinary office
of forgiving, and teaching, and blessing, and preaching
Christ crucified.
Fly from West Virginia
on a moonbeam,
by thy celibacy,
by the Fluttering Dove,
by the Spirit of Love,
I think I have enough to start.
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2. |
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I never would have thought I'd fall in love with a married man.
I guess my heart's just bigger than the width of his wedding band.
I know it's banned by the sixth command,
but ooh ooh,
working for Sarah, could you never notice Abraham?
We were working the land
out in Pennsylvania
when the cow got sick, the barn burned down,
we moved to Virginia.
And they said it was because of me,
not in so many words but behind their teeth,
with little sucking sounds
that sound a lot like snapping scissors.
So when they started blaming demons I know I breathed a sigh of relief.
Nothing so ghostly about a woman of the flesh like me,
so I'm off scot-free, I'm a chickadee,
but ooh, ooh,
now that Adam's got a ghost
he's ghosted any notion of Eve.
So I'm taking money
from the chest in the bedroom
where they made six kids.
What else can a girl do?
Love has made me sick in the head
Love's the only devil in the Livingston homestead
The only wonder here is why
the cloth above my breast
shows no sign of singing at the fringing
from the fire that's within me.
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3. |
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I tremble as I write you, but I consider it a duty Jesus Christ Himself has laid upon my shoulder. It's a wait of shame, how I behaved: beneath the dignity of my office.
I'd heard of the Livingstons. They were all Lutherans. Oh, My God, what light respect adheres between us Protestants. I do confess to laughing at his story:
He trembled as he told me about a strange and awkward haunting at his home unfolding. Crescent moons were cut from laundry on the line, though none in sight were there to bear the scissors.
He prayed for deliverance when three of his hens were decapitated like three heads of grain by a sickle's blade, though no sickle manifested.
I trembled as I traversed past the pale and ashen faces of his homestead scattered. "You Livingstons, you look like you've seen a ghost!" I tried to joke. Didn't even score a snicker.
"Gird your loins, Anglican! The Wizard Clip snips quick! He'll separate your heart, your head, your doctrine too, everything that you use to keep connected."
I could not believe that it was true. Has this ever happened to you? Bishop of the Church of England, excommunicate me, but I don't recall any part of seminary that explained how to deal with demon scissors! I could not believe that it was true. And frankly, Father, neither would you. Ship me back to England where the demons have the decency to skulk, hide, remain but a problem for the mind, never-minding my passible body. I never thought I'd say that it was true, but America will do this to you: SOAK YOUR CLERICAL SWEATER IN SWEAT YOU CAN CALL IT A FEVER DREAM BUT IT'S STILL COMING AT YOU BLADE OF JUDGMENT HELL'S HAIRCUT FINDING ME INFINITE WANTING
We could not believe that it was true
But having been stabbed by them demon clippers
Our ministry is sapped
We just shiver an we shake inside our rooms.
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4. |
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He'll separate
your heart from your head.
There was never
Bid adieu to all
your distance from the spiritual
get holy water
Sorry bro
Round one goes to
The Clip
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5. |
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Christ has no ministers in New England
and so I'm out of options.
I'm going rogue, I'm going wild
for despite the Greek revival
even I know besides the Bible
there's just ghosts, nothing but ghosts,
nothing but hungry ghosts.
There ain't no apostolic succession
so I'm putting the word out
to all the single ladies
of dubious orthodoxy
for whom plants serve as proxies
of saintly intercession.
I know I'll be forgiven,
for if those who come in Christ's name
cannot cast out a demon
then those who conjure demons
surely do not offend Jesus.
And if you think these thoughts
are black with superstition then
believe me boy I'm with you but
you've no scissors separating
what you believe
from what appears to be.
Only God can judge me,
I'm giving Him a shot.
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6. |
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Take your time. Don't mind the manner I don't mind my manners as I manage to mine the matter of your mind. Let's take a walk in the woods, get lunch, and burn your Bible. The Good Book, in fact, it wraps us in a pretty bad rap. "Thou shall not suffer a witch to live" nor a wizard to give you dating advice, alright? Saul summoned the dead, but David wrote the story. So no wonder that it goes just about the way it always goes in the Christian narrative, in which everything that doesn't fit gets a kick in the ribs, doesn't it?
Let's review the principle facts, you believe yourself under attack by a demon or a spirit that's attached to your house. You try the Methodists? Of course you've tried the Methodists. You try the Presbyterians? Oh, but they didn't help you none. And you wondered how come. Listen, Mr. Livingston, these believers keep no science of the spiritual, they just do as they're told. And they're told to keep away from signs most efficacious, like the hexagram, the Divine Name, rearranged. Yeah, they call it all sin, like the symbol of the androgyne, like the circle on the ground, like the five dollar fee that the Brotherhood charges for the upkeep of the the temple.
You know, being a magician isn't cheap. It's not like being a priest. It takes pricey materials to effect the immaterial.
ADAM LIVINGSTON RESPONDS:
But could you cast the spell first?
I've got nothing on my person,
nothing in my purse
but I'll pay you triple
just to see that demon long gone,
just to get dressed without exposing,
I'll put my bathrobe in the morning,
kiss my wife on her American cheek,
mow my grass, invite my neighbors
'round to tea, 'round to see,
I've got nothing to hide,
neither ghoul nor ghost inside,
just some honest commerce
modest daughters
sons early to rise. Gucci!
Demonology a science that does not affect our lives.
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7. |
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Oh what a comedy!
even my wife laughed at me.
Let her laugh,
at least I'm free.
Magic was an open door.
I let in things I'd never seen before.
Let it close,
at least I'm warm.
Crescent moon
if I'm doomed
to be haunted by a ghost
that neither God
nor his fallen host
can control,
I'd better let it go.
Oh, what a tragedy!
The fairer sex ain't fair to me.
My daughters scream, say
"You don't lead your own family."
But oh, what better would they do
in my shoes
they'd probably wear them out with running from the rock
that floated 'round the room
and the voices too, singing,
"Livingston, I'm coming for you!"
Spirit of Truth,
if it's true
that you're closest to the broken
then I'll hope for you in my bed,
but it's scissors I expect,
cold on my leg.
I'm just a little black raincloud and tut tut, it looks like rain.
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8. |
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Adam Livingston undone
laid down at the dying of his day.
He had bitter words to say, like,
"What a lark, what a laugh!
Another heifer neatly halved!
Broken hand, broken staff,
nothing to lean on."
Forty winks for our Rip van Winkle,
Adam in his garden deeply dozed.
He must have turned off his phone
or perhaps it died in the night,
Adam's little, shiny light
gone dark as a heart with no hope in it.
For he knew there'd be
no woman from the rib when he woke
just a ghost
just a joke
just a poke in the ribs.
Adam Livingston unconscious
dreamed up a man in a dress.
You could color him impressed
by the awful words that rung
'round Mr. Livingston:
"Like it or not,
this one is gonna relieve you."
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9. |
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I don't think houses get haunted no more,
'cause everyone rents.
It seems to me owning the thing is prerequisite
for a dead occupant
to take effect.
But why would you want to?
What would possess you
to possess what you possessed?
(Grandfather said he left Baltimore
to see a haunted house
Where it was said
"the strangest scenes were enacted."
Bedclothes cut to shreds
Geese without their heads
Laundry on the laundry block
by invisible powers chopped, I heard.)
I heard this thing on the radio,
interview with a priest,
said that the bishop had made him an exorcist
dealing with
four or five calls a week.
But why would you call him?
What would possess you
in the scientific age?
(The residents called ministers
to pray for the soul
of the previous owner of the property
but to no avail.
Until a Catholic priest,
a Purgatory priest,
got down on his knees and cried
my friend, my darling guy,
what keeps you here?)
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10. |
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ADAM REFLECTS
A year ago
or a couple of months
that felt like a dozen
because they weighed so much
there was a knock on my door.
Don't we all get knocks on the door?
Don't we all hear
woodpeckers rap rapturous
drill little deaths into the tree of life
that signify and effect the fact
that nothing that was will be as before?
Don't we all get knocks on the door?
I answered it.
It was an Irishman
son of famine, superstition
on my land
and I despised him.
Don't we all despise the poor?
Those walking wants those living lacks
that signify and effect the fact
that the garden's gone
and the world's gone bad
and all our wealth is not our own?
Don't we all despise the poor?
But he asked in Christ's name
so I said yes,
spend the night, rest,
be a guest.
Haven't we been here before?
Haven't we all put up a fence around our yard
composed of expectations
to keep the peace,
to keep the nation,
then a neighbor
shatters all this
with a word.
Don't we cringe to hear the word?
But in the middle of the night
his fever struck,
soaked the guest bed with his death sweat
grabbed my cuffs
and then he called for a priest.
Haven't we all called for a priest?
In darkest days and no-good nights,
in stomach pains and dying wives,
don't we crumble
don't we cry
for daddy to say
it'll be alright,
my son, it'll be alright.
BREAKING WITH HIS REFLECTION ADAM SCREAMS
Hell no, I wouldn't let a priest into my home
How could I look my wife in the eye
with a hand in the hand of the whore of Babylon?
Why marry such a virgin valley but to reject
the habits of the Catholics, their ashes, their drinking?
No mediation comes from fat old men,
there's no comfort in the bread
it's Christ alone, it's Christ alone
I am alone.
BREAKING THROUGH THE SCREAMING THE CELESTIAL VOICE IN CHORUS SINGS
(Praise him, I
praise him in the morning, AM
praise him in the evening, ALONE
praise him all the time, I
for he alone is holy, AM
he alone is worthy, ALONE
he alone is only, I
he is Christ alone.) AM
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11. |
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Deep in the hundred acre woods I found
a gnawing pain, a painful gnaw
to lay the saw to what I saw
to claim it all to claim the lot
for private property.
Oh, there's no lust for the undressed flesh
holds a candle to real estate.
Adam in the garden built a fence.
Me devoid of dollars devoid of sense
could only stumble up the trail to find
the perfect home thought it wasn't mine
I cried to be a landless beast
I looked to the West looked to the East.
Oh, present resident
it is my intent to put you in the past tense,
hop your picket fence
and write my name upon your deed,
absorb your person into me,
lay your body in the golden ground.
No shovel can cover the debt that you owe.
It grows bigger, like cancer.
You traded your neighbor for your neighbor's home.
Hear a knock? Don't answer.
It's your skeletal creditor.
Oh, Christopher, please, your enchanted neighborhood bleeds.
(Picking out paint at Home Depot I heard the thunder of hooves roll 'round the rafters then adding off-white to my Victorian fretting from outside the sound of stifled laughter, "it looks better in red!")
Haunted, I am haunted.
I'll grit my chattering teeth
I'll learn plaster relief
I'll put in a patio
harmonize with muffled screams
I'll profit on the sale
leek, onion, garlic, kale
planted in the back where the soil mounds
and the women wail
Oh, former resident
it is my intent
to keep you in the past tense
paint your picket fence
whatever color that I please
with my name upon the deed
and your body in the golden ground.
Future resident
you have pitched your tent
that much is evident
you've torn out all my fence
it doesn't matter that I've cleaned,
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12. |
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The dead man teach me
teach me so well
said a river's in Heaven
no river in Hell
and when I croak
to Hell I go with my dried up soul.
Then he add a complication:
God love me so much
he moved Heaven's river
with a wooden cross
now the river flow
to my dried up soul
so to Heaven I go.
Oh, and I want it so.
Then he add a complication:
I can say no.
Don't want your river.
Want to hop on the shore.
So to Hell I go,
with my dried-up soul
just like before.
Then he add a complication:
I can say yes.
Put me in the river
but only up to my chest.
Don't dunk my head!
So there's a little bit of no
in my great big yes
and I wonder
what happens next.
When I get to Heaven
and my head ain't wet
God gonna say, "Woah,
can't come in yet,
I'm a burning sun,
you're a little frog,
I'll burn you up."
And that's the reason for ghosts.
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13. |
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It is fitting
and is right
and it is necessary for salvation
that all creatures
be subject to the Roman Pontiff
and that's a tough sell
from where you stand
but it's the kind of thing that Jesus wanted
before he left us at the border of the Promised Land.
I was late for work on Tuesday.
I was kept up late the night before,
by a voice invisible, celestial,
instructed to instruct the Livingstons
in dulcet tones.
Singing, "now that you have bound the strong man,
set the seal of Christ upon your door,
make pious intercession for all souls,
get it right don't read the rites you read before,
for Latin lingers lovelier than whate'r vernacular
cries Domine, non sum dignus!"
It is fitting
it is right
and it is necessary for salvation
that all nations
become one heavenly kingdom
and that's a long shot
from where we stand
but it's the kind of thing that Jesus wanted
before he left us
looking at the Promised Land.
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14. |
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Oh, what a tragedy!
I am a tree
it is my spring
but I wilting in the garden of Eden
indentured to an Adam
who don't give a damn
for me. Not an atom
for me.
But do I not have leaves?
Smell fragrantly?
Cast pleasing shade against the
monotony of husbandry
which burns the balding tops
of so many other middle-aged men?
Had I cast my limbs
fruit-laden and fair
and been stepped over
for some other orchard-creature laying there
it would have hurt
but made sense at least:
My dresser of trees
declines to undress me
so I'm off scot free.
But every swooning summer night
he leaves his bed for a blinding light
that calls him to his knees.
I hear the Tantum Ergo on the breeze.
Oh, what a comedy!
Adam's wife and me
fulfilling Christ's command
to love our enemies.
We drink tea
grind teeth
and roll our eyes
at the room where he
prays another rosary.
She says before the priest
blessed the house at least
she and he had peace
in mutual enmity
against that spirit dread
but now the dead instead
are partial to preach
upon the doctrine
of purgatory.
Far better were the days
and fabric-slitting ways.
A devil in the house
ain't half as troublesome as a saint.
She puts the saucer down
I try to hide a frown.
She looks away and sighs:
You should have known him
when he was a young man.
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15. |
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I thought you were a demon
I thought you were a ghost
I took you for a murderer
I took you for the worst
I got all up inside my head, my friend.
Besides this, I didn't know
what to do with all my dead friends
where to put all of the souls
But now I know.
Been talking to this priest, man.
He's been showing me the way,
And when I don't understand him that well
he tells me it's okay.
He says the head needs its reasons
but reason ain't what saves.
Love your brothers and your sisters
in or out of the grave.
I'm gonna do it.
He say we started in a garden
and to a garden we will go.
I found you buried in my garden
with a hole inside your skull.
And that ruined all of my best theories
that you were hell-born, in sin.
You were just a sucker with your head bashed in
waiting on a requiem.
I'm gonna give it to you.
Oh, I love you all the time,
even though you're not particularly mine.
And when you get right,
don't forget about me.
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16. |
Clip Concluded.
02:24
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Oh my fluttering dove
that'll be enough
the flame is at the thumb
having lit a hundred wicks
beneath the crucifix
warming west virginia tongues
to praise him
praise him in the morning
praise him in the evening
praise him all the time
for he alone is holy
he alone is worthy
he alone is only
he is Christ alone
what return shall I
give my darling guy
my exorcist my Christ
but all my joy my youth
my land and farmhouse too
devoted to his use, and to
praise him
praise him in the morning
praise him in the evening
praise him all the time
for he alone is holy
he alone is worthy
he alone is only
he is Christ alone
and if we sew a shroud
around the hope we've found
to rot in golden ground
then let the wizard clip
haunt what house we flip
let light in through the slit
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Dear Other Steubenville, Ohio
Dear Other is a band centered in Steubenville, Ohio.
Marc | Maura | Caleb | Dan | Brodie | Albert | Harrison | Maria | Liam | Sean K | Rob | Sean B |
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