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.

Tuesday, September 5, 2017

40 years ago today, Voyager 1 left Earth, never again to return home.


The entirety of our species may be this one golden record. This is the entirety of the recording.



This audio recording of Bulgarian folk sing Valya Balkanska performing “Izlel e Delyu Haydutin,” is one of several songs on the Voyager 1 and Voyager 2 space probes.

"The Golden Record"
A poem for the Voyager 1 & 2 spacecraft
By Christopher Fox Graham

Valya Balanska
in 60,000 years
when the human race is extinct
racing at a geologic pace to fossilize ourselves
next to dinosaurs
Valya Balkanska will still be singing
she may be the last
and only voice
the galaxy knows of our species

to tell her story
I must begin at the beginning:
we all shared the same neighborhood once
when matter didn’t matter so much
but FLASH-BANG! scattered us
like children
from doors of school
on the last day before summer
some stayed close to home
while others wanted to see how far away they could run

and when they began to pick up the pieces
they clung to each other so tightly
you could feel the gravity of it all
but these rocky asteroids and gas giants
comets of ice and terrestrials covered in methane or argon
stare across the vacuum playing telephone with each other
and wonder if they’ll ever touch again

can you hear them?
they speak slow
some syllables take millions of years to finish
but out in the black
are so many lost marbles
they number a billion billion for each one of us here
they, too, were born blind in the dark
wondering, “what is this place”“
and “where did I come from?”
they cling to the nearest glowing stars
like lost children
terrified to be alone

The Voyager spacecraft, launched in 1977.
among the sea
in a stretch of nebula
on one of those marbles
unremarkable in its ordinariness
a thump-pulse of moving things speaks so fast
the planets can’t understand the gibberish
but they love the sound of it all
it reminds them of a split moment in lost memory
when we all were dancing on the head of a pinprick

those creatures, they say,
have sent ambassadors into the stars
riding radio waves in images and sounds
but we have no way to answer, just to listen
a few constructions of metal
have sailed into the dark bearing their dreams
like messages in bottles
so if they annihilate themselves
in a flash of fire
or by eating up all the matter on which they survive
something will remain to prove
there was some magic once

The Golden Record with encoded messages about how to play it,
Earth's location triangulated with 14 pulsars, and information about
the hydrogen atom to give a point of measurement reference.
on one of those lost satellites called Voyager
now 18 billion miles away from a home
it will never see again
is a golden record
and instructions to play it
so if, in eons hence
on some other marble, wiser life sprouts
and in their wild youth,
breaks the laws of gravity
they may find it floating wandering in the dark
and hear the sounds

of us

those alien discoverers may not get past the wonder
of greetings in 55 different human languages
saying in Begali “Hello! Let there be peace everywhere.”
or in Indonesian “Good night ladies and gentlemen.” and
“Goodbye and see you next time.”

after hearing “Johnny B. Goode”
they may crusade the stars
searching for Earth
and more Chuck Berry
they may listen over and over
to the perfect precision of Beethovan’s 5th symphony

or the unleased joy in the Peruvian wedding song

1½ tons of metal
weighing nothing in the ether
carries our billion conversations
every love story
every epic poem
every genocide and celebrity wedding
every nation to rise and fall
every miracle
manmade or otherwise

1½ tons of metal
carries the weight of 10,000 years of human history
on a record barely an hour long

But when they hear Valya Balkanska sing“Izlel e Delyu Haydutin,”
our evolution and extinction will not have been in vain

those alien discoverers
may not have tears
but they will know we did
they may not understand grief
but the first sound they utter afterward
will become it
they will understand
why we could not bear to be alone
when there were so many lost marbles
aching to feel footsteps
the touch of stargazing strangers
they will know there was good in us
and they may even call us 
“brothers”

to the creatures who find Voyager:
you may not have a song to mourn your dead
but as Valya’s haunting melody
and the Bulgarian pipes
retch all the sorrow of a million human generations 
into the stars one last time
you have a mourning song now

and Valya,
Valya will sing it for us







Bulgarian lyrics

Излел е Делю хайдутин,
хайдутин ян кеседжия
с Домбовци и Караджовци.
Зароча Дельо пороча
Дериденските аяне,
айяне, кабадаие:
- Две лели имам в селоно,
да ми ги не потурчите,
да ми ги не почърните,
че кога флезем в селоно,
млого щат майки да плачат,
по-млого млади нивести,
дете ще в корем проплака.

Гюлсюме Делю заръча:
- Варди са, Делю, чувай са,
канят са да та примажат,
деридеренски аяне,
аяне, кабадаие:
сребърен куршум ти леят,
та ще та, Делю, удрият.
- Гюлсюме, любе Гюлсюме,
не са е родил чилякън,
дену ще Деля примаже.

English translation

Deljo the hayduk went out,
the hayduk, the rebel
with the Dumbovi and the Karadjovi clans.
Deljo gave the following orders
to the brazen-faced governors of Zlatograd:
- "There are two aunts of mine in the village.
Do not make them Turks,
do not besmirch them,
because when I come back
a lot of mothers will cry,
a lot of young brides,
and unborn children."

Gyulsume told Deljo:
- "Beware, Deljo, beware,
you are being threatened, Deljo
the Zlatograd rulers,
the brazen-faced governors,
they cast a silver bullet
for you, Deljo, to kill you."

- "Gyulsume, my love Gyulsume,
not yet is born a man
who could kill me."

Saturday, August 19, 2017

Autopsy 3944494

When the medical examiner offers,
decline the autopsy report
instead remember him
as a photograph,
a memory of frozen time
of some long, far-off roadtrip
when you got too drunk to navigate
feet
in the right
or left
order
and he carried you
shoulder to shoulder
back to the stranger’s sofa

but if you must
if curiosity or some sense of honoring the dead
sways to accept,

ignore the REPORTED CIRCUMSTANCES OF DEATH
you already know the date
seared into your skull
turning mind to tombstone epitaph

make note of the time
“found unresponsive”
always in military notation
“in his residence”
always approximate
“by his wife”
and you can count the minutes
“pronounced dead”
292 minutes exactly from discovery to notification

EXTERNAL EXAMINATION
does not describe the man,
no, he is internal
the external is the zippered bag
which carried him
394,494 is an even composite number composed of four prime numbers multiplied together:
2 × 3 × 37 × 1777
the mnemonic device is easy to compound
2: the number of his children
3: the number of his survivors
37: the age he was when you last spoke
1777: the Battle of Saratoga
because you were never certain if you were his Benedict Arnold
or he was yours

CLOTHING AND PERSONAL EFFECTS
are the inconsequential pajamas
multicolored, plaid
the kind he always wore
when you drank coffee
and his wife made breakfast
the wedding band
devolved from its sacraments
now just “a white metal ring”
divorced from its vows
“with black paint”
faithlessly cold
“on the left ring finger”
you remembered when he swore those vows
on the grassy lawn in Oak Creek Canyon
you kept the black kippah from the service
though you have never been to a Jewish wedding since

EVIDENCE OF MEDICAL INTERVENTION
will not express the failure in the hands of the paramedics
who knew him from the grocery store
or saw him in the newspaper
the paragraph only notes the remnants
of the attempt to stop this destination
defibrillator pads
clear!
on the lateral aspects of the torso
clear!
EKG pads on the deltoids
clear!
bilaterally on the medial aspects of each leg
there is no followup paragraph
describing how the firefighters told his sons he was gone
you will not find footnotes describing the wail of his wife
how the glass in the house reverberated


EVIDENCE OF INJURY notes the “¾ x ½ inch abrasion
over the lateral aspect of the left knee cap”
but will not state that it was from a last moment with his boys
playing in the yard
the injury will fail to describe this as
the last memory of them in sunlight

SCARS, TATTOOS AND OTHER IDENTIFYING BODY FEATURES
measure the weight of lines and cuts
ink and healed wounds
a 5 x 1/8 scar curvilinear scar on the posterior parietal portion of the scalp
was unhidden by his shaved head
the report omits the motorcycle accident
that caused the oblique scar
adjacent to the superior margin on the left clavicle
you will have to remember he always told that the same way
like a goddamn war story
how the bike went down on the asphalt
the drugs in his system
which kept him alive and unfazed
until the paramedics arrived
not like this time

the report will note the tattoo of what “may be a Chinese character”
on the upper right pectoral area
there will be no attempt to identify the language

ADDENDUM from the poets:
 It was Chinese
and we knew him by it
On the upper central portion of the back is a large bar code tattoo
there will be no attempt made to scan it
but he did it once for you at a bookstore
you will remember the code is for “Slams: Volume One Dallas-March 1999”
available for $15.99
his tracks are Nos. 7 and 18
“God, Stadium Seating and Little Girls” is a ballad to Texas
the self-aware irony one sees in small towns
“True Power” is a sin caught in the throat
all the words spit for naught
considering the manner of his death

but the examiner overlooked the bulldog tattoo
the guardian hound on his forearm
earned in the Texas National Guard
shared with his brothers in arms

ADDENDUM from the poets:
this is the one secret we still have
not notated in the public record
the mark we alone remember
that the county will not take from us
we who knew him will speak of it in whispers

do not add it to this report

it was not there for the state
leave it omitted
so we may know each other by it
when we weep

the GENERAL EXTERNAL EXAMINATION notes
well-developed
well-nourished
Caucasian male
compatible with the reported age of 40 years
body is 66 inches in length and weighs 128 pounds
there is no notation indicating the change from his birth certificate
facial hair: goatee
corneas opacified
irises blue
conjuctivae congested
the teeth and natural and in good condition
there is no mention of the words they once held
the trachea is in the midline
no comments made about the force of breath
per line or stanza
the fingernails are intact
there is no measure of the layers of ink that have been buried beneath them
no commentary in how the fingers worked a typewriter
the impression of keys in the fingerprints
the soles of the feet are not remarkable
the report says
but they are, remember
when you got too drunk to navigate
feet
and he carried you
shoulder to shoulder
back to the stranger’s sofa
the soles of the feet are goddamn saviors
and they kept you alive more than once

INTERNAL EXAMINATION
involves a Y-shaped incision
the examiner calculates a 340-gram heart
which, must be noted, is larger than average
but you knew this already
despite his 128 pounds
he had the heart of giant twice his size
now unbeating
it will be a dead weight in his chest that you cannot restart
no matter how much you want to

FINAL SUMMARY is a misnomer
it has no measure of the man
it only states the cause of death:
benzodiazepine and narcotic intoxication
it will make no commentary on his fatherhood
it will offer no final weight of his impact
it does not calculate the number of poems written
nor left unfinished
it will not say if he wanted to forgive you
for all the unkind words you spoke to each other
nor will say he wanted your forgiveness
so you could be brothers again

you will have no catharsis
no resolution to your civil war
you will remain incomplete,
unfinished,
unanswered,

now go

and live with that





For Christopher Lane
Aug. 5, 1972-Aug. 19, 2012