Three Poems by Cornelius Eady

Dont Bum Out The Musicians

Ah, behold, how hot tears Roll down pale cheeks Johann Sebastian Bach Ascension Oratorio, Cantata No. 11

At St. Pauls church, the musicians have heard it all. For years, they have paused between Bach movements to hear the strange reed of a human voice recite grief. Watch out, the poetry director gently warns me. This church across the street from where the towers fell is busy with Spring. What shall I wring from my throat? Wont the tenor later sing Ah, just stay, my dearest life What has been whispered, wailed before My arrival? Gone, I figure, Worse than gone. When the tower fell, just before the tower fell, The lives, trapped between the flames And the window. Your farewell and your early departure
For J. Chester Johnson

Toi
Who pushed your childhood off the cliff? What was the word that slapped you shut? Do you know the birthday of your deepest fear? Toi is an imp at the first Cave Canem. Watch her breeze on down the hall or conspire with us for fun with our party bottles and noise. But she knows what we hide and where we hide it: A catch in a voice,

the way a body jumps as if burned when touched a certain way. Her first assignment: With a pen, crack open your Demons box The room within the room which holds a small egg of vinegar and shame.

My Niece Marie Explains Her Michael Jackson Project

The idea for my student film is: Michael Jacksons Walking down some street, when suddenly, A big black car pulls up, out jumps some brothers Who haul him in, drive him to a secret location. They tie him down. Out comes a can of black paint And some brushes, maybe a sprayer. They turn him back. They correct what hes done to himself with those drugs, With that BS he told Oprah, with those white boy operations He did to his nose. They take that tea cup body of his And remind him. Thats where we leave it, in that room, With the brothers and the brushes Slapping on the truth.