This is the official blog of Northern Arizona slam poet Christopher Fox Graham. Begun in 2002, and transferred to blogspot in 2006, FoxTheBlog has recorded more than 670,000 hits since 2009. This blog cover's Graham's poetry, the Arizona poetry slam community and offers tips for slam poets from sources around the Internet. Read CFG's full biography here. Looking for just that one poem? You know the one ... click here to find it.

Sunday, October 8, 2023

"The Distance" by Danny Sherrard

 

"The Distance"

by Danny Sherrard


put me in the distance 
now if you guys don't know
the Distance 
it's out there 

it's kind of like where the truth has this way 
of answering all your questions 
without even having to speak 
like the first time you set eyes on the first love of your life 
as they were just walking down the street 

put me in the distance 
where you can riddle rumors out about my existence
like maybe the mighty Mike McGee will say
"I heard that Danny was kidnapped 
by a renegade Amazon tribe in the Amazon 
and they took him under their wing 
so now his blowgun skills 

phhhhhhhhhhhhhhhwop!
are impeccable"

See when I'm in the distance myth-making it ain't gonna be my job anymore 
it'll be yours 
and I think it would be just what the doctor ordered 

if I was in the distance so long
that there was a band of Danny impersonators 
running the streets of Providence 
like quicksand horses 
that everyone's eyes could just sort of sink into 
and I feel it like our hearts are all in the distance 
pumping vision into our blood and blood back into our vision 
distance is being able to see things from the inside out 
distance is where the future grows 
distance puts the marrow in tomorrow 
distance is what I want to eat for breakfast 
it's the bullseye tattooed the inside of my solar plexus 
and only the sunset can pierce it 
so CR when I'm gone 
I'll be gone 
my back would be turned 
by the time y'all's arrows are drawn 
the distance that I'm all wrapped up in 
will put the potential energy in your quiver 
distance is the backbone in my swagger 
and the twang in my stupid honesty 
see without the distance my gunslingers wrists 
hang lifeless with arthritis at my sides 
and gypsy of my lips forgets how to kiss the sky 

without the distance 
some nights I grind my wisdom teeth into a fine powder 
and I lace my cigarette other nights 
I use it 
to fill the empty hour glasses 
I put them in the world 
where things always get turned upside down 
to feel like I have more time 
I do headstands 
on escalators

I'll hit my spirit with the reflex hammer
just to see if its knee jerks 
I get used to the different-day same T-shirt 
I'll play with symbols and reverse and reverse till I bleed earth 
listen, these words are patchwork nothing 
I left my patchworks right between West 4th and Bleecker
so now I band up the box 
of the past 
with a blindfold on 
I'll keep tomorrow a breath away 
and break dawn like an egg across the home of your hate 
because distance 
is a dynamite psycho static patchwork matchstick stuck on motion 
and I'm a riverstone explosion 
a chiseled whisperin' echo crumbling in on itself 
a clover grown its fourth leaf 
check your kinetics 
check my kinetics 
striking lightning off the Braille of our pulse
put me in the distance and I will go 

I will go to the pawn shop at the end of the universe 
where the pawn shop owner 
keeps his beard in check 
with that razor blade you may have traded in for a second chance 
and he'll look at me 
from behind those elusive crossed arms 
and that wayward smile 
that pawn shop owners often have 
and I'll just take a look around 

I'll see the angel wings slung up on the walls 
and all of our old dreams 
bottled in jars on shelves 
that slant for the weight 
until I realized that this 
is as far as I can go 

I'll move the distance out of the way 
walk up to that pawn shop owner and say:

"listen, I've got a great story
it's about a spirit 
trying to find his way 
back to his bones
and I'm willing to trade it in
just so long as you can give me directions
on how to get back home"

 

Danny Sherrard wows the crowd at the Applesauce Teahouse in Flagstaff in November 2007

Born in Seattle, Washington on August 29, 1985, Sherrand he won the Individual National Poetry Slam competition in 2007, becoming the youngest competitor at that time to win such a title. In 2008 Sherrard won France's Poetry World Cup where he competed against national champions from 15 countries.

Sherrard was on the Seattle poetry slam teams in 2007 and 2008 and the 2009 HawaiiSlam team.

At the beginning of 2009 Danny Sherrard toured with the spoken word group The Spilljoy Ensemble composed of himself, Jon Sands, Shira Erlichman and Ken Arkind.

Sherrard's first book, "Cast Your Eyes like River Stones into the Exquisite Dark," was released in 2009 through Write Bloody Publishing.

No comments: