A First Night At El Sing Sing

A First Night At El Sing Sing

To hear the poet read "A First Night..." click here. [1,602k AIFF file] *

As I stand on the hill, on top of the rocks,
I stand and I look and stare inside,
I remember the whole, the mass, the past--
I look and remember--I was there with you once--
I was with you ...

I search into the building,
Many years ago break through the walls,
I see my cell block, my cell, my bunk, my wash bowl,

my ca-ca bowl,
I see my grim bars, around and around,
The long march upward to the dining room mess.

I do not see them playing, I hear only the marching,
The lone line, upward climb, a gray--a sea gray,
A mass of thousands of identities, thousands of locks,

thousands of keys.
"Look," I cry, "the cells are open" --
Wake up--I can't, I'm not asleep, I'm dreaming, Piri
Can you hear the clicks of thousands of keys being turned?
The soft pad-pad of the back, the man, and you turn your
back so he'll not see your face.

You grip wash bowl--the dizziness will pass.
Sit on your bowl--crap--move your bowels--
Defecate--oh, man, do something, don't just sit there.
Make them shadow bars go away.
Count the bolts on your cell, how big is it--
6x9x8 -- who cares.
It could be Grand Central Station, it's too small for me.

Smoke a smoke, read a book, plug your earphones--
Shut out, drown out, don't listen, don't hear, don't look
Don't let it get to you.
Forget the green dark pressure that pulls you in a short while back.

Forget the last hard-flung look before your back was trapped

by a hard-flung gate,
Forget your loss of clothes, identity, forget your bug-killing shave,

And the spread-your-cheeks inspections, or "lift your feet, puleeze."
Forget the damp-filled cell in the box,
no room in reception.

Forget the two matches left in the book
And three tailor-made smokes.
Forget your splitting these in half.
And now four matches
And still three tailor-made smokes.
Forget lying on the dingy matress
Inhaling time with no space.
Forget the damn feeling,
The hammering damn feeling
As it roars on you--hard into your mind.
You drag your burning cigarette
Oh God here it comes
Fifteen fucking years of this?

Hey bro, you're not a number,
You got a name--
They only got your body
not your spirit nor your brain.
Punto.

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* (Although these audio files have been heavily compressed, they are still large and will load slowly, even if you have a relatively fast 28.8 modem connection. With an average 2.5k/sec. download rate, a 300k sound file may take up to 2 minutes to load, a 1,200k file anywhere from 5 to 8 minutes.
However, your patience will be rewarded. Piri's intense readings are a true joy to listen to, and give the written word much depth and "flow.")