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      May 21, 2017Suicide NoteSteve Henn

      Hey Zeb,
       
      Remember when you dubbed Soundgarden
      for me in high school and I said it sounded like
      a symphony of chainsaws? Chris Cornell died
      today. God Bless that man and his Gift
      of a generation’s greatest pipes. So much
      of what I learn to appreciate I disregard
      at first listen. I saw Sparklehorse once
      opening for Mazzy Star. My brother and I agreed
      that Hope Sandoval looked and sounded beautiful
      and that Mark Linkhaus must’ve been
      “a little too into his artistic self.” Now
      I can’t listen to It’s a Wonderful Life
      without crying. My family never knew jack
      about modern music but my dad did keep a copy
      of Portnoy’s Complaint on the bookshelf
      behind the television. That book was good
      for me or it wasn’t, whatever.
      It didn’t matter, or it mattered less
      than I’d’ve overeagerly argued it did.
      In my Escort that we called “The Big Blue Shit”
      we’d sing along to Eddie Vedder’s
      “I’m goin’ hungry”—we could only falsetto
      pantomime Cornell’s part. I remember once
      when Musgrave walked in to his classroom
      and chalked no one here gets out alive
      on the blackboard. A bunch of kids were like
      what’s that supposed to mean? but you and I
      pretended that we knew just what he meant.

      from Poets Respond

      Steve Henn

      “This poem is in response to Chris Cornell’s suicide this week. Suicide is an issue that has touched me personally and has touched my old bestie from high school, Zeb, and the poem is an attempt to write my friend a thoughtful response to Cornell’s death and our shared history that I couldn’t quite capture in a text to him on the day of Cornell’s suicide this week.”

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