Where You Were Dead

Here’s a poem about my childhood, the ordinary aspects of kidhood — growing up in New Jersey, running around all wild looking for the Jersey Devil, finding things, things finding me. All that stuff.

And thanks to everyone who made it to Brooklyn for the release party for Uno Kudo volume 2. Huge success that was, man. See whoever can make it to LA in January for the west coast release party. Gonna be a great time.

Thanks,

Bud

WHERE YOU WERE DEAD 

i remember rocks hitting teeth

and punching a kid in the mouth

the way he bled on his white shirt

that said, “Dino the Last Dinosaur”

there were trips to the beach

we dug down so far the ocean showed

me and my bother in the pit we made

looking up at a sky so violently blue

as if drawn sloppy w/ blueberry scented markers

Banners pulled, wobbling bi-planes

advertisements for eternal life flown over the 1980s

neon smiling faces, dragged across New Jersey

boardwalk, crane game, zinc cream, seagull wars

Atlantic Arcade

you live forever, I’ll do the same

punch buggy yellow, punch buggy green

then we were walking in the tunnels under the asylum

into the flooded cranberry bog

armed with tree branch weapons

in case of werewolves, man

the toxic waste sunsets burnt over the powerlines

and I held your hand while you made up your mind

tripping on tripwire in the deertrails

burnt out shells of long ago parties

nothing is as depressing as a maze of pine

nothing feels as good as the first time

there used to be a field behind my house

where the dogs ran, but the dogs got sick

died slowly on the concrete floor

it was my father’s garage, stained with oil and wine

we buried the dogs down by the creek

the leaves covered everything so quick

now like my kid days, I’m not sure where the dogs are

somewhere in a nest of pine needles

long gone and without marker

vague and over-saturated wild hum technicolor

but there was christmas wrapping paper

so deep it covered the whole living room floor

my mom and dad didn’t have shit as kids

so for us they both worked two shifts,

aerosol spray can factor, fixing garbage trucks,

cutting fabric, day shift night shift

what’s the difference?

just wanted to tell you that I don’t remember anything specific

but I feel everything that happened in the cage of my ribs

like a dumb bird flying occasionally against my heart

bringing back fingerprint-thick Polaroid photos

and smudged cheap wax coloring book pages

the names of the deadend streets where I used to live

and the dreams that woke me up sweating

where you were dead