Black Zen: Cain and Able

CAIN AND ABLE
__________________

“What about Cain
as the double?”
—Charles Johnson,
An Interview with
Charles Johnson (2002)

“Out of the vast repertoire
of Western myth, one myth
stands apart for the extraordinary
longevity and variousness of its
appeal. This is the Cain-Abel story,
which has been present to the
Western consciousness since the
biblical era as one of the defining
myths of our culture.”
—Richard J. Quinones,
The Changes of Cain

I.

“So it’s the miscegenation,
not the incest, which you
can’t bear, Henry”
—William Faulkner,
Absalom, Absalom

Henry doesn’t answer—
He doesn’t say a thing
Because he’s in love with Bon

Charles Bon the Beautiful—
His half-brother and lover
His roommate at Ole Miss

They’d slept together—
Made love together and
Gone to war together

They’d run away from—
Colonel Sutpen’s plantation
When he forbid the marriage

Bon was already in bed—
With Henry so why shouldn’t
He be in bed with Ellen too?

They’d run off to the—
Civil War and saved each
Other’s lives back then

It wasn’t the incest—
How could it be that when
They’d been doing it already?

Surely by then Henry—
Knew that Bon the Beautiful
Had a nice big black dick?

How many times had Henry—
Gone down on Bon the Beautiful
Honeysuckle sweet Ole Miss dorm?

II.

But with me it was—
Just the opposite sort of
Thing that depressed me

“So you like both?”—
My cute dinge half-brother
Said smirking at me

I didn’t say anything—
I swallowed his cum and
Tasted my kid brother

I shuddered because—
It was so tart and male
Such an exquisite Wad

I wanted it both ways—
The taste of our Family Tree
And his Dinge Angelology

I wanted Miscegenation—
As well as spunky Incest
I wanted to suck his big dick

I had the hots for Tyrone—
And Tyrone knew it too
Playing tres hard to get

His Heart of Darkness—
His exquisite Congolese cum
Knight of Masturbation

No wonder Bon and Tyrone—
Smirked at me and Henry
Both of us queer for hot Stuff

I couldn’t help myself—
It’s all I could think about
The cum of Cain and Able

III.

Ahmos ZuBolton didn’t understand—
My submission to the Delta Journal
It seemed weird and queer to him

But he wanted to know more—
About my so-called perverted life
So tacky, kitschy and risqué

What could I say about it?—
“Incest is a Pest in our little Nest
Of fucking Social Ambiguities?”

These first lines of that rather—
Obsequious Faulkner-esque poem
About the love that had no Shame?

“I want to publish it” Ahmos said—
“Even tho they probably won’t let me
The Delta Journal is pretty Str8t stuff...”

I shrugged, because I didn’t care—
Poetry in 1967 wasn’t Top Priority
For me, not like it is now anyway

But anyway Ahmos wanted to know—
More about the “Incest” angle & why
I wrote my so-called Poem so gay

I think Ahmos had a Sixth Sense that—
We’d both end up in the Poetry Racket
One way or another in the future

“It’s about my kid brother,” I said—
"My mulatto half-brother who I'm
Still so desperately in love with."

It wasn’t that long ago either—
I’d been a senior in high school then
Tyrone was a 16-year-old sophomore

I told Ahmos that I was queer for—
The kid and was really into black guys
Who lived the Harlem Renaissance

I told him how I felt about love—
About doing the down-low in the dorm
With this stunning young janitor

I’d done my own version of—
Bruce Nugent’s “Smoke, Lilies and Jade,”
We got loaded and I read it to him

I told him about Black Genesis—
And how I thought Cain was queer
For his handsome young brother

“Like was Able top or bottom?”—
He asked & we both laughed at
Doing the East of Eden downlow

It was after that long night—
I got an apartment off-campus
In the Tigertown ghetto district

I wanted to be able to entertain—
And have friends over for dinner
And get stoned on West Chimes

Incest with my kid brother—
Moved up a notch to Delta
Decadence and Dinge denouement

Absalom, Absalom became—
My new lifestyle and I no longer
Hated the South like Quentin

So I talked with Professor Wildman—
The faculty advisor who then suggested
Another less risqué poem for publication

A Beatnik version of Miss Kerouac—
And Madame Ginsberg getting it on
A more acceptable whitey offering

But I knew already then in 1967—
That I’d done the Cain & Able thing
I was entering Light in August

Already exhausted dontchaknow—
From the strenuous night before with
The young editor Ahmos ZuBolton