Heavy Metal Poem

by Chris Tanasescu

For Iulia and Costin and Ilie and Dana and Ralu and Loredana and Viela and Calin and Adriana and Radu and Simona and David and Page and David and Liliana and Grigore and Ilya and Costin and Marina and Vali and Xiao and Maria and Bogdan and Bogdan and Simona and Georges and Gabriel and Justine and Martin and Ovidiu and Antonio and Constantin and all the others at Ost Fest and elsewhere…

The trees and the trees and the trees in the Stag’s Valley
Drink rain all drink rain all drink rain over the bikers’ rally

Feet stomp in mud feet stuck in mud
Feet stomp in mud feet stuck in mud
Same thing of a sudden same throng to be maddened
Same thing of a sudden same throng to be maddened
Different riffers dissident drifters
Different riffers dissident drifters
Come taste the trance of the rain go grow with the grace of the grain
Come taste the trance of the rain go grow with the grace of the grain

Come taste the trance of the rain go grow with the grace of the grain
Come taste the trance of the rain go grow with the grace of the grain

It was really coming down
It was really coming down
Rain pool rain pool rain pools were
knee-deep
run-off run-off run-offs fast
we couldn’t skip
I started to wade to wade to wade away and wade along
but before long
I started to stagger started to stagger started to stagger
in the Stag’s Valley
did some dancing did some dancing did some dancing
with the high grass and the barley
but couldn’t call and couldn’t call and couldn’t call
I know to trip is just to fall
I did skid like a kid
I did skid like a kid
Older toddler toppling
toddler toppling
toddler toppling

o brave drowned world under the whirls of rains and drains
vision of mud and a crowd of waving stalks and wading folks
secret Hades’ haven for my eyelids laden
with lead sounds
beer rounds
place where my suddenly amplified heart collides with the muffled drumbeat rain’s torn apart
doomed death doomed death doomed death where death is no doom
womb
I return to without ever having been in
blurred reflection of my infection with inflections
rock star’s genuflections
I am alone in the drone of the runoff
soft rustle underneath grass in my mouth
my ears sudden corn-ears listen to the earth
ear th ud
I’d die lie
low and bloom
in dung and ditch
doomed womb
foison of noises
hissed kisses
and the roar till the hoar
frost Ost hosts
Horus’ hora whores
and eeking bacchae
ticking shtick
with the ticket money buried in the full moon

Come taste the trance of the rain go grow with the grace of the grain
taste trance
prance
taste trance
go grow grain
grow
grain
grow
go

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