Raymond Soulard, Jr. New Songs (for Kassandra) - The ...

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& yet know that remembering is not enough, bares a toothy lie about it, a presumption that
what’s to come’s already been seen, been tried, been done—
a tenet of the old, scratched into their dust, & if no other hunger they still bear the
one to deny a novel beam anywhere, to build a world stoutly around this denial, yes, this one
lastly go if at all—
the novel barks at us in the night, strange melodies bleeding unnamed colors—
the novel rarely arrives at noon bowing to the frumpery of the day’s fattest king—
nay, it seeps in, crawls in, a strange, a note, a glint at a time—
arrives, arrived, been here all along—proof before the theory’s been written out—
Ever you must pose for me, your muse, your artist, ever you run along my blood,
heat & hurry it, ever what I know of novel I learn from you, what you make me make—ever
pose for me—
your muse, my artist
my muse, your artist
symbiosis, white butterfly, strawberry ice cream, world-blurring sacraments, cups of smolder,
novel ideas brewed in tea—
“Beyond charts & scriptures”
She nods.
“Aren’t we beyond them already?”
She nods again. Smirking.
“Then . . . what?”
We sit at my Rich’s our little table neath the front window in Luna T’s Cafe’s bandroom &
watch Noisy Children rehearse. I hadn’t noticed that Rich had summoned his bandmates—
“It was time”
“I’m sorry”
“The world you began keeps going. At some point you weren’t needed for that”
“What then?”
Americus glares at me, holding his guitar tightly. “For what we can’t imagine. We can
keep living, growing, filling up our world within its borders. But we can’t trespass them.”
“Are you sure?”
“I know we can’t do it like you can.”
“Beyond chart & scriptures?”
Americus says nothing. Beckah, sitting near where he stands, takes his hand & kisses
it. Smirking anew, says “That’s his new phrase, Dad. He’s wrestling with it right now.”
Americus smiles at her, his forever daughter. Without looking back at me, returns to
rehearsing.
Amazing when Knickerbocker toddles in helped & hindered both by his cane. Rebecca flies
from her chair to accompany him over to our table. Noisy Children, in a rare moment of
deference, unplugs their instruments & plays acoustic.
She sits the old man down in her chair & hurries off to fetch him his drink.
The Cenacle | 59 | October 2006