Poems

Invocation

By ·

This is not my father’s world—
The lowering grey afternoon
Morning for us filthy sidestreets
Pisspuddles rubbish truck noise
Alleyway stench porno posters
Outside the nightclub derelicts
Too late to interview too early
For soundcheck the reporter’s
Off in a huff there’s always
Drink to help one not think
Mensroom graffiti Lysol stink
The rental gear’s here suss it
All out snare crack bass thunk
Pick squeal how does it feel
To be so far from home each day
Further from father in his robes
Father in his choirloft father
If I were to live my life as some
Mongol warrior my bushy head
Ending up on a spike ravens
Feasting on my eyes my tongue
Would I be forgiven O father
You are a dot on my roadmap
A city a state capital this map
Folded up I forgot to pack
And haven’t unfolded in years
We end in tears hallelujah amen

Harold Whit Williams is guitarist for the critically acclaimed rock band Cotton Mather. He is a featured poet in the 2014 University of North Texas Kraken Reading Series, and is also the recipient of the 2014 Mississippi Review Poetry Prize. His newest collection, Backmasking, is winner of the 2013 Robert Phillips Poetry Chapbook Prize from Texas Review Press. He lives in Austin, Texas.

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