Remembering Nola 2005
We flew to New Orleans in the first week of November 2005, i.e. two months after Katrina had struck, for readings & meeting with friends. From notes I took while there I put together the following poem when we returned East. Here it is again, 10 years later, in memory of that disaster, of those who perished, of the friends we found devastated — but already energetically rebuilding Nola. A great city for great people. Much work remains to be done — as actor/activist Wendell Pierce so clearly said this morning on Up With Steve Kornacki and yesterday on Democracy Now! (that video is embedded below the poem).
The Scumline
of fridges & watermarks
for there are only two lines
needed to give
us a fix on the real
a vertical & a horizontal
crosshairs take aim
at New Orleans
post-Katrina topography
toxic mold blooms
a new circle in hell
a diabolic doodle rhymes
with Tsunami & Falluja
Baghdad & Yucatan
a twisted zig-zag geometry
earth embedded in house em-
bedded in steel embedded in
water embedded in air in fire
a twisted zigzag geometry
where the only fix is the
line left by receding water
on house in house on
mind in mind through soul a
watermark, scumline
SKUMLINE Dave yelled
& yanked torn twisted
siding scumlines now
vertical to hold open hell-
mouth door
cave where the question
“how do you preserve
the preservers”
has been solved
cast out the dead
preservers, put out on streets
white metal menhirs
sibylline square
vertical volumes
open or closed
a straight-up solidity
belies the lines they cross
a thousand crosshairs
aiming nowhere
duck-taped prophets
sad squat kabbas to be
circumambulated
in alien Hazmat suits
to read their hanging odesno formal mu’allaqat but
black marker dayglo impro
graffitoems like:
“I’ll never know
what
it means
to miss New Orleans
cause
I ain’t going
nowhere
Baby”
or:
“Can you tap a street light
for power without
burning out your cord?
If not take your
carpet-begging
bullshit Activism
elsewhere”
of fridges & watermarks
the lines are outside
& inside, the lines are
everywhere, I said watermark,
you said scumline,
& Paul Chasse said to me
I wrangled
the fridge outside with
the help of a bottle of
Jim Beam then I shot
it dead pumped three rounds
of ammo & the gagging
stink came out right away
it was an old corpse & I told
a National Guard foot patrol
fresh from extended
Baghdad vacation
“it was the only
decent thing to do”
the writing is on the walls
the writing is the walls
the lines are on the walls
the lines are the walls
“we had to abandon the boat”
Styx crossed or were those
crossed sticks or
pirate flag
skull bones?
& someone said if
you want to learn
how to walk on
the water, get out
of the boat
illuminated mold
in the first fridge I opened
gold mold
gold mold
old old
before its time
new new
make it new
in New Orleans
the post-K New Crescent City
where the favorite, the
favorite greeting I heard is:
“just returned!”