Dem Beans

phishgod

Dem Beans

Didja’ever grabbya
can o’ beans
and headya off
down by railroad
river trestle grub cookfire
propya’ can
‘pon green-willow branch
hold-all , hacky-top opened
by old broked-bladed
jacket-pocketknife
in ‘bandoned
hobo soup kitchen
flat shanty town
an watchya’
old brown beans
boil and bubble
as dat old can does
label burn crisp and black
and sooty curds
add flavor to
the beanjuice
no good saltpork
could possibly match
as slow hoppy-movin’
rumble-grumble-clack o’ freight
rumbles on down that track
bringing up fresh ghosts
of Casey, or Cassady, drivin’ that Train,
of logtrains out of Westfir
or Cripple Creek-Silver City
ghost-mine town lines
or Great Dust Bowl Depression
railroad nights?

Didja’ever taste dem beans,
or wanna taste dem beans,
old city slicker hobo
‘fore the gang boys came
and made the rails safe
for no person no how no more?

O!, dem beans—
dem beans of dreams,
a witches brew
of smoky cauldrons
conjured up by insect wings
tha’ bubble, boil ‘nd bustle in
the sauce of dem beans,
so rich, so murky deep,
so dark ‘nd so gritty—
dem beans, dem beans,
dark crystal ball
brown molasses beans—
dem beans.

Didja’ever?

--September 9, 1992
@pth

FinsburyParkCarrots

Yip. Sure did!:)