Leadbelly

can a voice
reach out of a song
and punch you in the gut?
Leadbelly
his can, but big-brother style
all in fun
his lungs lift lids
like a big dog
stretch out and shake themselves
watch out
there's muscle beneath that fur
all rippled in the sun

like every working man has
there is weariness
the sadness of a long row
long road, all lonesome footed
and a song rising up over the corn
just a reaching out wide
as the sky
tender like a whisper
of wind in the dull hot day

when that song finds you
if you've ever done a lick of work
or anything like it, you'll hear
that wild madness you'll know it
how it comes from your gut
and Leadbelly's guitar
fingers flying like a thresher
clacking and clanging banging
that twelve-string sound machine
folk songs pouring out
massive, this man
this one-man factory.

in my basement
i'm writing this, i'll plunk at
my guitar, listen to your voice
crackling from this copied
and copied and transfered and engineered
remastered recording

Leadbelly
there are no folk songs now
who needs to reach that wide
across the field or over the train-clack?
who needs to reach that far?