Song for Steve

Steve Cannon
Que en Poesía Descanse 

Steve Cannon
Hasta la vista
Steve Cannon

A la cañona
Que en poesía descanse
Y hasta la vista

It was the early ’80s
It was the time of meeting the Pietris Carmen 
Sam & Julio who weren't but were Pietris

Joe & bro Speedo Pedro before he was el Reverendo
got the name Speedo in the family because 
as a kid he was so slow they thought there 
was something wrong with him 

in school was put in what was called the opportunity class...
opportunity to fail every which way 

Steve Cannon 
Hasta la vista
Steve Cannon
Till the seeing

Met STEVE CANNON
through the Pietris
Los Pietris a veces muy 
Sin vergüenzas 

Met Papoleto of the Jesúletos
Met Algarín Miguel 
Met la jefa Lois la de Griffin
Met Bimbo Rivas
Met Micky P of Short Eyes
Met Bob el Holman
Y la Murray la divina Elizabeth  
Met Henderson el David
Met Esteves la Sandy
Heard about Diane Burns
La que quema
Met Stefanie la Smith de Oklahoma
Met la Nancy del Mercado

Y tantas tantas tantas otras

MET
STEVE CANNON 
Hasta la vista
Steve Cannon

In the time BCB before Cannon was blind
It was the time of the Nuyorican cafe was still 

ours...Nuyorican PRs Boricua where it represented 
US the Poets poetas PRs without the U.S.

The PR Poets cafe before it was a rich little boy’s play thing

Steve Cannon
Hasta la vista
Steve Cannon
A la cañona
Steve Cannon

used to sit at the end of the bar at the
Nuyorican and if the poeta who was up was 
taking his/wasting our time over stating 
complicating stammering 

Steve Cannon Steve Cannon
yelled READ the goddamn poem 
between pulls on his cigarette & gulps 
of his drink clearing the air

Far out Pedro said guffawing 
Steve Cannon 
was Out of Sight
Steve Cannon joining in guffawing

Guffawing ain’t no PR word

Steve Cannon
Before blind 
Was/is/always will/ever after be 
Out of sight 
Far out

It was Zoe time 
It was time of their girls
It was said Steve was the best father
They ever had

Steve Cannon
Hasta la vista
Steve Cannon
A la cañona 

When we met Steve kissed my hand
Como un Fellini
Only later did he love me madly
Every time we saw we
It was love at last sight

Steve Cannon
Steve Cannon
A la cañona

Later on you wrote or had
An assistant Justina Mejias write a 
Jerome foundation grant he offered 
me and Hal Sirowitz Queens poet laureate some readings
And even some moola 
Which took more than a little time 
getting to us—and it wasn’t no One Thousand— 
More like a hundred
But I called you with a gentle reminder
And he did come through

Gracias for your vision
Steve Cannon
Qué en Poesía descanses

Steve Cannon
Gracias por tu vida

Steve Cannon 
Presente

Steve Cannon 
Siempre 

Steve Cannon
felicidades en tu vida
Steve Cannon

Steve Cannon

Te echamos de menos
We throw you away less
Because we miss you madly

Steve Cannon
Hasta la vista
Until the sight until the sighting
Steve Cannon

Te extrañamos tanto
You make us feel strange without you
We miss you

Steve Cannon
Hasta la vista
Steve Cannon
A la cañona 

Que viva
Que viva
Que viva

Steve Cannon
Que en poesia viva Steve Cannon!

STEVE CANNON

Find the Form to Love Your Life

Life within a form is better than no form      I can riff make a ditty to which I can sing     Better yet dance move shake this only      Body these old booty bones teeth arteries      Like vines old veins twist around in the      Casket of my bod I’m the fruit of my loom      Make wine with me or dine me then      Wind me up and try to blow me away      I’m not a little girl you know      No little woman      Once I was tiny in my mother’s womb      Did I love myself then almost non      Existent yet even then I knew it was so      There in the casket      Of my mother’s bod su cuerpo      Cuero quiero mi vida      I want my life I love my life lovely how the      Want the love querer exists in one word      Takes care of both needs con una palabra      

Solamente una vez what’s the rest of it      The lyrics to that Spanish love song      A cut your veins I love you more than      My own life kind of song      Imagine loving so deep you’d      Kill yourself to prove it      Do I love myself enough      Huh what say you sitting out there      Voyeur of my ramblings      Rambling rose     by a rose by a rose by a rose      The vine winding itself around      Strangling      Or is rambling just innocent      Wandering given enough ramb      To wander far far away to a place      Where bodies love themselves love their lives      So loveable my funny      valiant vale of tears valentine you      Of the strong heart brave heart      Coraje means mad anger in Spanish but also can      Mean courage like want and love sharing the      Same body with different meanings      

I’ve learned a lot      Have so much in my addled head      Can drive myself coo coo like someone who is      Loco in the coco loquísimo meaning nothing       Like loquacious someone talking too much may      Seem mad or selfish or just plain distracted      To be in love with your life      Find the form to be the love of your life      Evoluting that breast pocket pad to telephone      Writing covertly writing openly when others      Are watching or not when you’re your only      Voyeur voyage to the bottom of your soul      To the top of your tippy brain by the fontanel      

Remember the fontanel the hole in your crown      That never quite closed your skull vulnerable      Ever since they poured the holy water right over      That venerable spot where things can be let out      But also let in let in the sun and the shine      Don’t be stingy giving accommodations to the      Best things which may or not be free      To be free you me and the bees those that still      Survive to be flee fly or stay in one place      Hovering when there’s something interesting      To observe be near to be a party to      Party till there’s no manana only      The now      The process forget      The end the      Ends of the earth are there just      To be explored on streets of sesame or rogering       In the nabe with the good mister who wouldn’t care       If you spoke English or not you were still worthwhile      

Even if poor of money and clothes you had a roof above      Your head with the hole      On your skull where you felt the cold when      The landlord      The lord of the land on Stockton St in Williamsburg the      Lord of the land on Ryerson St in Fort Greene forgot to heat the      Tenements where you and your Mami your       Papi your little sis and bro lived always winter wondering      Do we get heat today the silent radiators      Sadness personified the water too icy to bathe or shower      Barely tolerable to take a puta’s bath in the ponchera      Why did we call the basin a ponchera       Did it somehow come from the word      Punch the bowl where people      Put the punch in and scooped it out with a ladle      

We poured ours from a pitcher our summer punch Kool Aid      We went through so many envelopes full of thousands of      Crystals melded with sugar almost drowning out the      Chemicals so lovely in their purple red orange rage     Jewel encrusted azucar      Celia Cruz      AZUCAR      her cry out of open windows      That voice her rhythm her blued negritude     Summers with no air conditioning we drank pitchers and pitchers full of technicolored ice waters     Cool in our aluminum tumblers in all colors      I always wanted the golden one      The metal so cold      To the touch to the cheek to      Fingers frozen in winter      We waited for the heat for the      esteem to return bundled in coats under blankets     

Got to get this all down      Getting too much for     My head thoughts      Getting folded over     Twisted up    One word added to another and another      Finding it hard      To fit they      Push one another into long convolutions      Head speech crowding words almost      Hurting one another the way they must if there’s no space to      Be let them out to pran brehe      To show off their worth their sparkle      They can’t be seen all crowded and glopped up      Like overdone spaghetti      Gotta let out the voice let it out      And let in the other voices that want to come in be safe from      All that coldness out there      

You have to have a relation to form and shape      Otherwise it’s mush pasta      One pasta for all forever and ever amen      One and all one perception leading      Superseding immediately another content being form being content      Content are you content with your content with your form objectively      Correlatively co re lated elated related how como in Spanish and com’e in Italian      In Spanish come is a command familiar form      Come syllabized into two is you eat      Could also be he eats or she eats      But we’re talking you now      You are to come here in English and eat come in Spanish      A command      

And if pouring wine in a glass and it breaks      That’s the poem      Fast lick that wine off the table      I command you      Get that tongue slurping slurp lucky lurking      Ton  gue  ton gun magically paradoxed into a Spencer Sonnet      # LXXXV Venomous tongue tipp’d with vile adders’ sting      The old poetic forms go back to the old stuff      Stick to your own kind      A girl like that      Back to the old to get to the new      Get down get down to come up      Comeuppance resuscitated as      Susto      A scare que susto dios mio      Four and twenty blackbirds coming for me      Come to egg me      On bacon bay and con      Con means with in Spanish      In English get away with something you’re a con      Are you conning me chil’ chili con carne      Carne meat in chill Spanish      Carne in Italian still neat meat      The truth      

Word of the old nabe      Of Boris the Venetian blind Jewish man      His shop under our stoop on Stockton      Mami let us sit alone on the stoop because she knew      Boris the Venetian Jewish man of the blinds looked after after us      Boris please watcha my ghels      Mami afraid of the barrio      Changing      Loved her nenas      One had tremenda capacidad to do to be     The translator the little adult the decision maker      The smart one      To watch out for the family      The other one pretty too but a dreamer a bit boba un poquito zángana      Thinking who knows what thoughts

FINAL

Lydia Cortés is the author of the poetry collections Lust for Lust and Whose Place. Her work has also been published in various anthologies such as Puerto Rican Poetry From Aboriginal Times to the Present, Resist Much, Obey Little and online forums as What Rough Beast (Indolent Books) and Upstreet Journal. In November 2O19, together with Julio Marzan and other poets, she was invited by Pen Puerto Rico to participate as a panelist in a Dialogue on Boricua Poets in New York. She is a MacDowell fellow and also was awarded at VCCA and Valparaiso in Andalusia Spain.