Brandon S. Roy is twenty eight and was born and raised in Carencro, Louisiana.He has been published in numerous magazines and reviews such Origami Condom and Pocket Change. He is the author of, the soon to be published, Chaos Love Theory. A former New Orleans resident, Brandon is currently working on a new book of poetry entitled, Project Voodoo Love.
Winter 2008
Table of Contents - Vol. IV, No. 4
Poetry Interview Translations Fiction Book Reviews
Brandon S. Roy
Night funeral
In New Orleans:
Why are there so many people in the streets this time of night?
Second line, we all hear them coming--
Open carriage with two horse pulling the body--
The band played, people danced--
They second lined for hours
Night funeral
In New Orleans:
Umbrellas spun to the beat
The procession rolled on
Poor man's friends floated for blocks--
Bright light and colorful handkerchiefs wave in the air--
If only we can all go out in this grand style.
Night funeral
in New Orleans:
God willing this is not the last we see--
Distant memories and slow breathing as the night went on--
He was a music man
He deserved a big send off--
He and his horn made money
Not much but he loved his life--
Now we celebrate it.
Night funeral
In New Orleans:
A gloomy stop in the quarter
eyes shut in front of St. Louis Cathedral
and the horns played on
there is sorrow on the air
tears in the street
but the band played on
Voices sing:
Like a bird from prison bars has flown,
I'll fly away
That long black carriage
Street packed
trombones sand
the bands played their sadness--
His wife mournin'
His kids celebrating
He gone but never forgotten
His soul, bond to the streets of the quarter
Night went on
Heroic end to a saintly man
That poor man
Grand funèbre.
Nuit funèbre
en la Nouvelle-Orléans.
Night time
You hear that silence deafen the darkness
Walking across the street
A leaf fell down from the trees
Where the streetcar passes the corner
Of Napoleon and St Charles
And through the sounds of buses passing
I lit my cigarette and stared
Every time I blink
I blank out to the beauty before me
Moon lit sidewalk
Blanketed in blue black shades
In the cracks
The litter of the past day.
And the wind
Softer than bird wings
Rustle here and there
Dead night
No whistling
That would bring ghost
Look at the star that glows between the branches
Somewhere on Napoleon
© Brandon S. Roy
