Fire on the Vine, by Bryan John Appleby (2024)

1.

Oh the gosling looked up to the goose and the ganderSaid, I don’t have a feather to flyI’m the unfortunate three of a kindWhen the flood finally came, it was Noah’s nameless wifeThat looked out from the window as the city sankAnd the rooftop children criedWhen her feet hit the ground, she could still hear the soundWhen her feet hit the ground, she could still hear the soundRinging in her earsAnd it went …

2.

You fill my cup and I fill yoursYou fill my cup and I fill yoursYou sang over me, with a tambourine in your handAbout the rider, the horse, and the landYou sang over me, with a tambourine in your handAbout the rider, the horse, and the landYou play my notes and I play yoursYou play my notes and I play yoursYou sang over me, with a silver bell in your hand,About your dreams in the morning of a wide and ancient landYou sang over me with a silver bell in your handAbout your visions in the morning of a wide and ancient landI will be the watchman on your wallYou will be the watchman on my wallI will be the watchman on your wallYou will the watchman on my wall

3.

You were hiding in the backseat of my LincolnUnderneath a blanket with your head against the doorAnd I was already halfway through OhioWhen I heard your soft voice singing to a song on the radioI crept out in the darkness of the morningPast our sleeping father, a cold cigar lying at his feetHe was surrounded by his books down in the parlorFilled with all the words that he had wanted us to read and knowBut this is not an old American storyAbout the rugged men who came out from the eastAnd I am not some outlaw from the BadlandsOr a gambler running tables in New OrleansSo I put you on a bus back to BostonWith some money in your shoe for a mealAnd I turn my car in the other directionJust hoping that I hear a note from the backseat

4.

Boys from the street, slum childs come in here togetherBoots wrapped in rope and wireAnd black hands in cold leatherBut I am not one of them. No, I am not one of themBut they all know me by name. They all know me by nameMen in the aisles, closed eyes and gold dust on their fingersThey say soon God will come, so hold your tongueDon’t let your vices lingerThey say Elijah was carried off,caught up in a chariot made of flameSo we too will ride in cars that shineIf you name it, it’s yours to claimBut I am not one of them. No, I am not one of themBut they all know me by name. They all know me by nameGirls from the corner, coming from the Corinthian QuartersThat’s my place on JacksonThe Preacher and the Politician, the Working ManThey come looking to me, they come askingI know soon God will come and even if I runHis horsem*n bound to find meHe’ll ask me why I’ve done the things I’ve doneAnd I’ll tell Him you made the mouths I feedAnd I’ll say, I am not one of themI am not one of themBut He’ll turn to me and say,Oh, I don’t know you by name!No, I don’t know you by name!And I’ll think to myself,You never did make known to me Your ways

5.

She came in the night on the ninth of OctoberThey looked my in my red eyes and said she won’t lastWe all knew that she should’ve slept until mid-DecemberWhen it comes to the lot I have learned, I can’t count on the castThat night a vision cameAt the same time both vivid and vagueOf a father looking onAs he burns to the ground the house that he madeWhen I woke, I had been slain in the spirit of reasonBaptized in the rolling dark waters of doubt‘Cause I’m told it’s Your will to withhold, but it feels like treasonA rain cloud refusing to pour in a season of droughtThat night a vision cameAt the same time both vivid and vagueOf a father looking onAs he burns to the ground the house that he madeAnd I heard him sayIt was well on its wayJust look how it swayedHow it crumbled and cavedAs the crimson glow of the fire caught his eyeI could tell he could hear, as well could IThat along with the crackle and growl of the fireCame a call quite small from inside--I’m in here aliveBut now, a child is born, she is bent but not brokenA spark, a seed and a sproutA miracle or catastropheThis child who’s orphaned her family

6.

I have come into your houseYou say there’s something I should know by now and I vow to hear you outBut as you speak, how I feel the stingLike the hackles on a dog’s back I rise up to meetThe words you spoke in the middle of the nightThey fall heavy like a hammer on my mindYou are the light in the darkness, you’re the fire on the vineOh my son, I have known your waysBut I’m the gale that’ll rattle your gate; you shudder, I make you shakeYou will find what you did not seekA road less narrow, a way not steepOh my childDon’t you lose your placeRemember my tableRemember my faceAnd the things I told you in the middle of the nightThey fall heavy like a hammer on your mindI am the light in the darkness, I’m the fire on the vineYou turn awayI’m left aloneThen came a signThen came the RevelationAnd I said,You, you will not dig a hole in meYou will not chop down my treeOr hold me under the waterNo and you, you will not dig a hole in meYou will not chop down my treeOr hold me under the water

7.

You said, don’t come by, I do not feel like talkingNot to you or anybody elseYou write their names with a trembling, ragged fingerUpon the pane glass blinded by the frostAnd the cold pulls you downIt pulls you downPulls you down, down, downWhen I found you, your face it was not movingYour eyes are ravaged, you’re the land beneath a plagueWife and daughter caught weeping out on the waterWhen the storm fell heavy on the lakeAnd the waves pulled them downPulled them downPulled them down, down, downBut my brother, don’t let your lantern darkenDon’t be afraid for themFor oh my friend, there is nothing on the other sideWe will grow old and plant for them a gardenWhen the growing’s done we’ll plunge like a stone to join them in the tide

8.

Glory, I have known you my whole lifeIn the morning, you come in gentle as a golden vineThrough my window, you fill up the valleys in my sheets. GloryGlory, I have known you on a black crow nightFrom my rooftop, shining in the alabaster moonlightAnd the rats all scratch in the attic under my feet. GloryGlory, you are the anvil for my hardened heartGlory, you’re the only mystery I can seeI have known you as the song that goes before meAnd the only one who’ll be there when I’m gone

9.

I saw a white-haired child, staring out through hollow grey eyesI saw men that come to early ends, men who flicker, dim, and dieI saw a kerosene skyline from the suburbs of the city on a hillI heard the clatter of the coin and the yawning of the few that have their fillAnd the sun, it is a blister, rising like the deadI drag my shadow behind me, and I drag my body to the edge of my bedWith my palms pressed to my eyes, I pray this one last timeIf you’re someone else I might love you still, but as it is we’re doneOh and you, you will not dig a hole in meYou will not chop down my treeOr hold me under the waterNo and you, you will not dig a hole in meYou will not chop down my treeOr hold me under the water

10.

I pick up a broken combRun it through my thin grey hairThough I don’t have any plans tonightI’m not going anywhereWell, I should’ve seen this comingDon’t know why I’m surprisedEvery vessel on its way downTakes with it the captain’s lifeThough I’m blind, my dear, I seeThe parade goes on without meMy body aches, my mind, it weepsFor you, for youTonight I’m locked outside my buildingGuess I must have lost the keysSo I’ll sit here on the sidewalkLet the snow fall on my kneesAnd if I made it to a payphoneI don’t know who I would callSo for now I close my eyes and restMy crooked back against the wallI read that old men will see visionsYoung men will follow dreamsI believed it when I read itI see your face in everythingNow your honey jars are frozenIn the window your books have brownedAnd there’s too much room inside our bedI think I’ll join you in the groundThough I’m blind, my dear, I seeLet the chorus sing without meMy body breaks, my mind it sleepsWith you

11.

I hold my shoulder tight against the cold that rolls down the road tonightThough I’ve left the fold, my feet will find a holdNow I cannot stopI will not turn around on the road tonightThough I’ve left your side,Still I will find, find a wayThe holy garment threads apart, the cloth of white is stainedThe floor has bowed beneath the weightThe beams now bend and breakNo longer can I call a home, the place I’ve known so wellBut what may come upon the road, right now I cannot tell