The Book of the Dead Man (His Papers) 1. About the Dead Man's Papers The dead man remembers paper. He remembers roller skate keys and fruit box scooters, typewriter ribbons and swamp coolers, and lots and lots of paper. Paper stained by words and telltale commas. He could spot talent in a writer's commas. There were meanings, there were diagrams on the ball field that told the players where to run, there were lines in the dirt that paralyzed a chicken. There was crumpled paper holding words that would never be released. And there were blackouts in the national files so that documents attesting to the criminality of officials became graphic illustrations of barrier art. The dead man tore paper in the fashion of atomic dispersals. He burned paper in the fashion of cremation. He balled-up the good ideas that were too late and the personal confessions of friends. 2. More About the Dead Man's Papers He took the papers of the famous, and what he knew, to his grave. The dead man blots paper of its blood and its tears. He tapes together the halves that were torn apart in anger and secretes them. He relieves the insecure. He drops a dime on the drafts of the dull, the lightweights, the minor laureates. The dead man loves the shredder and incinerator. He buries treasure but leaves no maps. Everything in dead man's space is an X, you yourself can name it. There is a word for each X, a site specific, an open vise. Stick your neck out if you like. The Book of the Dead Man (Joyous Dead Man) Excerpted from Incarnate: The Collected Dead Man Poems by Marvin Bell All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
