Abstract
Junky’s Song Etheridge Knight (bio) THE PAIN, SO REAL, so intense, Like a sliver of steel through the eyeball Into the brain, rocks my mind, rocks my soul, feels like a million different pieces. I am not one, I am not whole; A war, me against my/self/ (and THEM against me too,) Rages in my head. My stomach so violently quakes, Every tormented inch of me cries, screams, Every tormented inch of me shakes. The Walls, not bobby frost’s, but the warden’s, Coming, tumbling, crushing down/on/me. Hands reaching out, coming oh so close . . . A devil dances in my face, an angel too, Moving all/about/whispering overdose. . . . “The cessation of pain and sorrow, And the LOVE and Joy of tomorrow, Is so close, is oh so close. . . .” But. I didn’t have any “stuff”—“It ain’t true.” Said I did what I do, when I/am/sober, and to my/self/true. . . . The devious devil and innocent angel/are/in my brain; They are slick, they know every trick, Living in my head and heart, trying to drive me insane. Father Time, then blackest of blackness, standing still, Etheridge Knight Etheridge Knight (1931–1991) is author of Poems from Prison, Belly Song and Other Poems, and Born of a Woman: New and Selected Poems. Copyright © 1996 Charles H. Rowell
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