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poetry

A Man Ain't Nothin'

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by Jason McCall

open edition
46 pages

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Mexicamericana

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Additional Info

ADDITIONAL INFO

EXCERPT

I’m Glad John Henry Died  

Because nobody will ever love me
enough to believe my ghost will save them
from the dark mouth of the earth. 
Because I never learned how to sing
at my own funeral.
Because I can’t make the world
dance and shake with the beat
of a twenty pound hammer.
Because my body never helped anyone 
invent the blues that invented all
the hustler anthems. 
Because I can’t kill myself
and get y’all to thank me for it.
But I’m mostly jealous because he made it
to the heart of something.
Even if that heart was black.
Even if that heart pumped poison
into his mouth. 
Even if that heart was dead
since the earth was born. 
It was a heart, and I don’t have one
memory of touching a heart
or a heart touching me
or someone reaching for my heart
even if they were reaching to break
through my ribs and squeeze
my heart into pus and blood.
Zeno says nothing ever reaches
its destination, but a man reached
the moon and John Henry reached 
14 feet and the drill only reached nine.
And I’m jealous of John Henry’s dead body
because he might not have lived, but he did
die and I know how to love a dead body.
When I see John Henry in the tomb of Coosa
or Lewis with death in his lungs
and poetry running up his veins, I see Hades. 
I know. I know. The myths 
about black death never end
without mentioning a white god.
But when I see John in that mountain
black as any underworld
I see Orpheus inching toward the light 
with his love one step behind 
and I finally stop hating
the god of death for pulling Eurydice back
into the earth because I’m learning
that a dead body is hard
to give up. Ask me why
I scream B.I.G.’s verse on “Mo Money, Mo Problems”
every time the sun looks to pull the earth
out of its deathbed. Ask me why
this is as close as I can get to understanding 
the holy spirit claiming somebody’s tongue. Ask me why
every black song is a dirge.
Ask me why I’m smiling 
and I will tell you the story 
of all the men who died 
for me but didn’t stay dead. 

ABOUT THE POET

Jason McCall holds an MFA from the University of Miami. His most recent collections are Two-Face God, and It Was Written: Poetry Inspired by Hip-Hop, which he edited with PJ Williams. His other collections include Dear Hero, (winner of the 2012 Marsh Hawk Press Poetry Prize), Silver,I Can Explain, and Mother, Less Child (co-winner of the 2013 Paper Nautilus Vella Chapbook Prize). He is an Alabama native, and he teaches at the University of North Alabama. More examples of his work can be found at jasonmccall.weebly.com.

ABOUT THE COVER ARTIST

Cory Patton is from Tuscaloosa, Alabama. He uses a wide range of paints, brushes, and found objects in his paintings. He also works on audio/video productions. He is the co-founder of the Maubilans Art Collective.

WORK IN THIS CHAPBOOK FIRST APPEARED IN

Enclave Final Poems Series, Linebreak, Sixth Finch, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, Waccamaw, and Words & Beats.

OTHER WORK BY JASON

Two-Face God

REVIEWS

11 May 2021 : On A Man Ain’t Nothin’, poetry by Jason McCall (review by Alina Stefanescu)