Counting the mile roads back
downtown from Big Beaver (16 mile rd.)
To McNichols (5 mile rd.) was a daily
habit. Pawning gold, and selling hand
guns to stranger hands than the
two we were given to demand
more of ourselves -- but the cold
was too old, timeless, patient,
observant and beyond our measure.
Squatting in those dark poisoned
buildings with their broken window
mouths, and sharp cloudy cracked
teeth. I often would convince myself
that if I stayed still enough I might
freeze. Out in the night I would
count the sounds to nod off:
A hooker's high heels
The pimp's smoky whistle
A fan belt's stinky screech
The empty pocket reach.
Gutter Stamen to
Skyscraper pistils.
The higher the mile road
The bigger the house and yard
Blind pigs, and vitamin C cut
drugs and thugs in run down
Mansions with stanchions and
Doric columns full of working
girl's pensions... This city has
a carburetor heart on full choke.
And a pitbull's kiss full on
the face of its children.
The Hamtramck Axle factory blues
Cass Corridor switch blade shoes
And two roads that start together
Only to disappear beyond the lights
unparalleled from the Renaissance center.
Woodward Blvd and Gratiot Avenue
Cars dragging the strip, some old, but
most new. Across the river is Windsor
Another side of the same view.
A leaky tunnel, and a bridge away -
- from Canada.
Author notes
Written April 24th, 2004
In a list
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Comments
1 - 25 of 25
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Yes, a corpse flower.
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It looks like a flower. Is it?
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Whew, you language/ description of this city is amazing. I've never been to Detroit but would still like to, despite some of the not-so-nice scenes that you describe - but I guess you get that with lots of big cities
I particularly like the first stanza and the lines; 'Pawning gold, and selling hand
guns to stranger hands than the
two we were given to demand' - I dunno but it seems kinda rap-like, if you know what I mean - I thought that this style was very effective. Excellent.
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I guess I'm like, the only one who's heart swells up with pride while reading this? some may think its sad, but it reminds me of my hometown.....which is DUH Detroit! I think its very beautiful---in its own way. Your rhyming is fucking out of this world! the only bad thing is... now some people don't want to go to Detroit!! oh well, its their loss right? I just love this poem, it has so much meaning in it and every single word is so true!
--Steph-- -
Fanfuckingtastic!
As filthy as old handled money, and at the same time, scarily perceptive. Raw, unrelentless, restless. I love the line about the pitbull kisses, almost violent in it's rawness. I never want to go to Detroit. You just made a hell of a travel brochure.
Thanks for entering my contest!
~Hannah~ -
Yes, often.
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I've lived in Vegas and Reno... The white baby in the black lady''s hands I think, says a lot about Detroit, which was my point. Detroit is a very racially charged city.
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Never been to Detroit. Not sure if I ever wanna go either.
Great Job
Chrissy -
I've never been but now I feel grimy. Like I have taken an afternoon stroll through a world of smoke. Even my teeth feel dirty.
Smoky or smokey? No bother, neither one looks correct to me tonight. It's one of those words that sometimes just doesn't look right, even though it is spelled right. Do you ever get that?
Anyway - this is fine writing.
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I lived in Detroit for two years, graduated from Southeastern High School. I saw Marvin Gaye at the 20 Grand in 1972, and spent many days getting high on Belle Isle. At a party off 12 Mile, when I was 17, three guys robbed us with sawed off shotguns, of everything, even clothes. Greatful we got out with our lives.
Your poem brings back haunting and happy memories. The rhymes in and out of the lines are awesome. The imagery took me to familiar places.
I haven't been to visit my kin folk in 22 years, maybe a funeral or wedding will make me step a foot back in time.
Excellent write!
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Great poem - had a raw feeling to it. Hell, if you want a city, come to Vegas. Is it just me, or did anyone else think this background doesn't really match your words. Sorry for being blunt, but your words are just so damn good, it is ashame to distract your readers with cute babies.
Barres* -
Nice imagery. I know nothing of Detroit, but this brings the city alive in a way I can nearly visualize.
Loved the phrase, "gutter stamen to skyscraper pistils" -- as if monetary worth brings blooming beauty.
Nice write.
Edited on Apr 26, 8:35 p.m. because ''. -
Well Versed
I was struck by the counting in the poem. The first word, obviously sets the reader up for a history- almost expectant of a chronological record "counting...back". The poem does a contemporary blazon of the city, counting and describing it's parts--in stanza two, counting becomes describing. The end is much different--it seems to escape the city in the end, and even the country. Canada, as a simple conclusion to the poem, says to me that there is a poem in canada also--this is where one narrative ends and another begins. Good work. I won't say keep writing, but I won't say stop either. -
god ths puts a lump in your throat its so flat and bleak to me anyway it just reminds me of desolation and smoke and concrete and litter and cold winds and everything outside i suppose and it makes me want to curl up in bed or in front of the telly and never go out except for gin and chips and videos.maybe pizzas as well might tice me out apart from that i dont want the world
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excellent
Yea I'm a free thinker but after reading this I need a shower, it was that good.
Desiree -
not a huge fan of detroit
have spent many an anxious hour
wondering if i'd make it out
you captured that edgy feeling brilliantly
good luck with the contest,
~liz -
I was curious how this contest was going to ultimately unfold.
Was anticipating your arrival and was somehow ultimately relieved and fulfilled to see you show up with the perfect brilliant observation-statement, as I knew you would. I don't know much about Detroit, but it's a place that I probably ought to... -
Also, excellent use of the automotive metaphor to describe the motor city. Carburator on full choke...
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excellent.
RUN!! Great descriptive beat poem, pouring light into the dark corners of a city that you obviously know well, and impart to us with remarkable alacrity. Another gem mate. -
I've not been to Detroit either but your poem certainly paints a vivid picture of what it must be like. (Doesn't sound like the ideal place to be down and out.) This seems like a great entry to the contest and I wish you luck.
Dee
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No mention of the steaming manholes?
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Nice job. It really brought me right back to the streets. the imagery and the narrative were tight. Well done.
Scott -
Your words have taken me down the streets and alleys of Detroit...wonderful imaginery...Great poem, thanks for sharing
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What if I accidentally quit writing? Are you telling me that would some how AFFECT you? Or do you just say "keep writing!" because you have the imaginative vocabulary of a hamster being shot out of an industrial straw at Uranus? Sorry, please forgive me, it's just that when I read the term "keep writing" I can't help but wonder what in the fuck that has to do with you or me or anything other than you not having much to say about poetry.
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Never been there; But it paints a great and extremely vivid picture. "but the cold
was too old, timeless, patient,
observant and beyond our measure." Was really good; very poetic. Stop writing!
Edited on Apr 24, 3:58 p.m. because ''.
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