A
PARADE OF NODS
for
Jim Carroll
Forests
of
granite crawl
from
bent tears
of
my prayer
to
make a mouth
of
silence.
A
torrent of teeth
behind
sunlight
carve
sand castles
out
the body.
It
is not for dreaming
or
escape. Herds
of
angry gods
keep
the drums warm.
The
power of nations
in
a flash against
my
ribcage, I feel
alive.
An invisible
greedy
hand reaches
into
the nest, the
birds
sing louder
than
death. And
I
save them by
unfolding
the shadows
wrapped
around their
secret
wings.
Jim Carroll Portrait -- Dan Lacey
Jim Carroll was a poet and punk musician best known for his 1978 autobiographical book, "The Basketball Diaries," dealing with his teenage heroin addiction. When he was 13 Ted Berrigan introduced him to Jack Kerouac, who claimed that Carroll "writes better prose than 89% of the novelists working today." In 1967, at 16, he published "Organic Trains," his 1st collection of poetry, and by 1970 excerpts from his diary appeared in the "Paris Review." In the early 1970s he started writing film dialogue for Andy Warhol and eventually became the co-manager of Warhol's Theater. Late in the decade, when she lacked an opening act, his former roommate/girl friend Patti Smith, the "punk poet laureate" (who claimed that when they met in 1970 "he was pretty much universally recognized as the best poet of his generation") persuaded him to recite his poems while her band accompanied him. He subsequently formed The Jim Carroll Band, and Keith Richards, the Rolling Stones guitarist, helped him secure a record deal with Atlantic. His most successful song was "People Who Died" from their album "Catholic Boy":
ReplyDeleteTeddy sniffing glue he was 12 years old
Fell from the roof on East Two-nine
Cathy was 11 when she pulled the plug
On 26 reds and a bottle of wine
Bobby got leukemia, 14 years old
He looked like 65 when he died
He was a friend of mine
Those are people who died, died
Those are people who died, died
Those are people who died, died
Those are people who died, died
They were all my friends, and they died
G-berg and Georgie let their gimmicks go rotten
So they died of hepatitis in upper Manhattan
Sly in Vietnam took a bullet in the head
Bobby OD'd on Drano on the night that he was wed
They were two more friends of mine
Two more friends that died / I miss 'em - they died
Mary took a dry dive from a hotel room
Bobby hung himself from a cell in The Tombs
Judy jumped in front of a subway train
Eddie got slit in the jugular vein
And Eddie, I miss you more than all the others
And I salute you brother
Herbie pushed Tony from the Boys' Club roof
Tony thought that his rage was just some goof
But Herbie sure gave Tony some bitchen proof
Hey, Herbie said, Tony, can you fly?
But Tony couldn't fly - Tony died
Brian got busted on a narco rap
He beat the rap by rattin' on some bikers
He said, hey, I know it's dangerous
But it sure beats Riker's
But the next day he got offed
By the very same bikers
Mary took a dry dive from a hotel room
Bobby hung himself from a cell in the tombs
Judy jumped in front of a subway train
Eddie got slit in the jugular vein
And Eddie, I miss you more than all the others
This song is for you my brother
Later books included "The Book of Nods" (1986). Suffering from pneumonia and hepatitis C, Carroll died of a heart attack in 2009 while working at his desk on his novel "The Petting Zoo," after writing on the demise of his book's antagonist, "Finally, a last sigh of consciousness rocked him gently on the deck of an old schooner ship. Billy’s body, dark blue like the storm clouds preceding the storm, shuttered and his eyes closed dull and loosely. Sensing young Wolfram had given up the ghost, the raven glided back down aside the dead artist, whispering a last demand. 'It’s time your eyes remain shut, Billy Wolfram. Now is the time, so get on with it. Take that single step and fly.'” At his wake Smith described her 1st encounter with the dead poet: after reciting a Walt Whatman poem from memory he nodded off into an addict's slumber for a half hour, then picked up where he'd left off. She closed her soliliquy with a farewell and a salute to the beat poets who had been their colleagues -- "Jim, when you get up there, say hello to Allen [Ginsberg], and to William [S. Burroughs], and to Gregory [Corso], and to Herbert [Huncke]. And to all our friends."