Put Your Feet Up by Matthew Robb Brown This page is an ancient recording device that carries us through time to you. silence on our lips but language in our hands. —Nicholas Samaras Recording our words changed our consciousness: How one speaks like a friend from the grave. Recording music changes it further. But there’s a movie scene I can’t unsee. I need good words, good music, good images, that my heart be carpeted, my intellect furnished, and you can put your feet up perhaps, one day in me. There is no life without language. Your statutes rolled out the blue sky, cut out these cottonwoods electric in the wind. You typed up the DNA of my body and soul. You wrote me like a poet, still revising damaged stanzas. When I was young, did I cry out all the tears I had on myself, that now I should be so dry?