michael marisi ornstein

1 . Home 

I dug and I dug and when I hit metal, I heard my heart wake up with the blood pumping in my ears and there she was, right there in that old metal box with the lid locked shut. I pulled and I tugged the red clay away and flopped back down on the ground, flicked the key into the lock, popped the green clam open, unwrapped the plastic, flicked opened the case, let the scent of red fur drift into my brain and, there, wrapped in burlap was my own true heart, safe and sound and, yeah, she was dry without the least bit of moisture on the neck or the body, her Mother of Pearl insets shining in the starlight, and the slightest gentle hum coming off the strings. I watched my own fingers tuning her up and finding a G chord as the birds took off into the black sky and lighted right back again, in place. I let my fingers loose to slide up and down her neck and strummed out a flowing stream of long overdue music. My hat and coat were there, my Red Wings and belt and a brand new crisp indigo pair of dungarees, along with a heavy cotton tee so white it stung my eyes. I was home and alive and authentically  breathing. I felt my heart beating in the soles of my boots and that pumping, to my amazement, came back to me, like one of those birds to a branch, my one long lost drum, my blood stream, and I was whole again, under the stars and this was indeed a true thing that I could wholeheartedly settle into and believe. I took in the glimmer of my hands and reacquainted myself with who I was and didn’t feel any hatred towards whateverthehellIstoodfor, cause I didn’t any longer stand for anything that wasn’t one hundred percent honest to myself, and I took comfort in embracing what remained intact through all the time I spent living outside of my own soul for reasons of survival among all those burning demons I had to encounter along the way back home. A bird with a razor tail hopped on down from a branch and bopped around me on the fallen leaves for a bit and something rustled in the bush and I knew I was never going to be alone again, no matter how far I drifted or what kind of mortal weather the wind blew me through. Visions of tangled hair and colorful department stores and red plaid hunting jackets and horses and parking lots and highways and rain and lonely-assed wanderings started skidding through my mind, so I closed my eyes and let it all rip itself out one last time before breathing the last remnants of badness away, taking it down to Empty and filling myself back up to the brim with the sounds my guitar was dreaming up. The slightest light of the morning was bleeding through the trees and it occurred to me that it was a miraculous victory just to be living, from one breath to another, and I wondered how it could be possible for a man to survive even one damn day no less a whole entire life worth of breathing. I found myself feeling something that seemed like Happiness and stood still under the weeping willows, thankful to be granted the opportunity of breathing, and I celebrated all that by laying down in that soft and familiar bed of earth near the flowing water and allowed myself to fall into the magical tingling arms of my own beautiful bright and shining wide open road.

Shooting Craps in Rain on Chrystie St.

Across from me, 
My brother’s empty chair,
Me cold, 
Inside warm, me no more inside, 
Cold outside, leaves are falling,
Trees, sharp arms reaching out for me,
Taking me from you, Ma, warm
Don’t want to go in the car, I go on a metal ship,
Cold against my skin, no home,
Don’t want to go anywhere but your arms, warm,
We stay forever,
The street, rainy, cold, the cars hiss, outside, too loud,
You soft music,
They eyes at me, ice me, they smile vicious,
I believe them,
They show me my blood,
Smile knives, they got knives hid, they got em, I know they got em hid,
They native from far away, too, they smile, they got my blood,
I let them cut, 
Only them,
Somebody there in the cold, crouching by the wall,
You hear him? 
See?
Shiny clothes, green and black, shiny boots, shooting craps, I hear tic-tack drum,
So far from the St. Hubert and the waterfalls across the border, they speak new,
Don’t let him take us outside, Ma, let’s stay here home, we home and warm,
These eyes, those men, they stare, burn my tummy,
They take my clothes, they win, take my smile, they gamble,
Gonna lock the door, leave me out under the trees, Ma, away from you,
The dark says ‘sleep, he say ‘go
Don’t listen to him, say no, we stay home,
The whisky makes my tummy You, Ma, warm and calm,
My nerves they like before I born, make me shiver, breathing, vibrating,
You speak my language,
They take my tongue away, make me talk like them,
They live to win, gonna win my clothes, me naked in the rain,
My shoes melt away,
I smell the food, your hands, apron,
They got me by the leg,
They break my bones,
They shooting dice against a wall on Chrystie Street,
I love them, I let them cut,
I walk on blades, 
They cut me back to You,
Friend, got eyes, warm, you be my pal,
You got waterfalls, too, you got words, too,
You be my mind, I fight,
We fall together through water,
We cold, 
We go frightened, we stay tight,
We trembling, we tremble together,
You speak Me,
We make language new,
Make our own world, outside,
I protect you, pal,
We, my pals, we eat beans and rice and Cuban coffee,
Under neon colors running down the window in the rain,
They took my leg, knocked me down, took my speed,
I get new speed now, in my tummy,
I stay speed, vibrate,
You, stay warm, 
You stay warm, Ma, 
You be my waterfall,
I shine for you, forever,
Some day I come home, keep door locked,
I knock some day, in the rain,
You hear me, Ma,
Close your eyes,
It be me, you see no body, close your eyes,
You feel me, vibrating in the rain,
Me pals, we go, we burn fire, we flow rivers, ice,
We shed together, our bodies,
We spirit, me pals, we don’t need our clothes anymore, we don’t need no legs,
Fire, Spirit, We Live Mind, We go, We go Outside,
No safe no more, We Danger,
We cut for Spirit, we Effervescent, we taste it in our mouths,
Time is Ours,
You keep me pals warm, 
We go outside,
We sing, loud like Gabriel,
Noble, Native, my tongue, Breton,
You keep my song,
I say my song now, Mama,
I say Secret song and they hear Music,
Now I go on ice, in rain, 
I go so far fast I go,
You watch me go,
I burn, me Pals, 
We Tear Apart, 
We Spirit, 
We Safe,
They throw dice, they blind, 
We show them, love, music, they see,
They cut us,
We Bleed Divine.

- Michael Marisi Ornstein