The other, the end of a
sure beginning.
62
Now Long Ago
One innocent spring
your voice meant to me
less than tires turning
on a distant street.
Your name, perhaps spoken,
led no chorus of
batons
unrehearsed
to crush against my
empty chest.
That cool spring
was shortened by
your summer, bold impatient
and all forgotten
except when silence
turns the key
into my midnight bedroom
and comes to sleep upon your
pillow.
63
Greyday
The day hangs heavy
loose and grey
when you're away.
A crown of thorns
a shirt of hair
is what I wear.
No one knows
my lonely heart
when we're apart.
64
Poor Girl
You've got another love
and I know it
Someone who adores you
just like me
Hanging on your words
like they were gold
Thinking that she understands
your soul
Poor Girl
Just like me.
You're breaking another heart
and I know it
And there's nothing
I can do
If I try to tell her
what I know
She'll misunderstand
and make me go
Poor Girl
Just like me.
You're going to leave her too
and I know it
She'll never know
what made you go
She'll cry and wonder
what went wrong
Then she'll begin
to sing this song
Poor Girl
Just like me.
66
Come, And Be My Baby
The highway is full of big cars
going nowhere fast
And folks is smoking anything that'll burn
Some people wrap their lives around a cocktail glass
And you sit wondering
where you're going to turn
I got it.
Come. And be my baby.
Some prophets say the world is gonna end tomorrow
But others say we've got a week or two
The paper is full of every kind of blooming horror
And you sit wondering
What you're gonna do.
I got it.
Come. And be my baby.
67
Senses of Insecurity
I couldn't tell fact from fiction
or if my dream was true,
The only sure prediction
in this whole world was you.
I'd touched your features inchly
heard love and dared the cost.
The scented spiel reeled me unreal
and found my senses lost.
68
Alone
Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don't believe I'm wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
There are some millionaires
With money they can't use
Their wives run round like banshees
Their children sing the blues
They've got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody
No nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Now if you listen closely
I'll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
70
Communication I
She wished of him a lover's kiss and
nights of coupled twining
They laced themselves
between the trees
and to the water's edge.
Reminding her
the cratered moon lay light years away
he spoke of Greece, the Parthenon
and Cleopatra's barge.
She splayed her foot
up to the shin
within the ocean brine.
He quoted Pope and Bernard Shaw
and Catcher in the Rye.
Her sandal lost
she dried her toe
and then she mopped her brow.
Dry-eyed
she walked into her room
and frankly told her mother
"Of all he said I understood,
he said he loved another."
71
Communication II
for Adele
The Student
The dust of ancient pages
had never touched his face,
and fountains black and comely
were mummyied in a place
beyond
his young un-knowing.
The Teacher
She shared the lettered strivings
of etched Pharaonic walls
and Reconstruction's anguish
resounded down the halls
of all her
dry dreams.
72
Wonder
A day
drunk with the nectar of
nowness
weaves its way between
the years
to find itself at the flophouse
of night
to sleep and be seen
no more.
Will I be less
dead because I wrote this
poem or you more because
you read it
long years hence.
73
A Conceit
Give me your hand
Make room for me
to lead and follow
you
beyond this rage of poetry.
Let others have
the privacy of
&nb
sp; touching words
and love of loss
of love.
For me
Give me your hand.
74
PART THREE
Request
If this country is a bastard
will the lowdown mother user
who ran off
and left the woman
moaning in her
green delivery
please come back and claim
his love child.
Give a legal name to beg from
for the first
time of its life.
76
Africa
Thus she had lain
sugar cane sweet
deserts her hair
golden her feet
mountains her breasts
two Niles her tears
Thus she has lain
Black through the years.
Over the white seas
rime white and cold
brigands ungentled
icicle bold
took her young daughters
sold her strong sons
churched her with Jesus
bled her with guns.
Thus she has lain.
Now she is rising
remember her pain
remember the losses
her screams loud and vain
remember her riches
her history slain
now she is striding
although she had lain.
77
America
The gold of her promise
has never been mined
Her borders of justice
not clearly defined
Her crops of abundance
the fruit and the grain
Have not fed the hungry
nor eased that deep pain
Her proud declarations
are leaves on the wind
Her southern exposure
black death did befriend
Discover this country
dead centuries cry
Erect noble tablets
where none can decry
"She kills her bright future
and rapes for a sou
Then entraps her children
with legends untrue"
I beg you
Discover this country.
79
For Us, Who Dare Not Dare
Be me a Pharaoh
Build me high pyramids of stone and question
See me the Nile
at twilight
and jaguars moving to
the slow cold draught.
Swim me Congo
Hear me the tails of alligators
flapping waves that reach
a yester shore.
Swing me vines, beyond that Bao-Bab tree,
and talk me chief
Sing me birds
flash color lightening through bright green leaves.
Taste me fruit
its juice free falling from
a mother tree.
Know me
Africa.
80
Lord, In My Heart
for Countee Cullen
Holy haloes
Ring me round
Spirit waves on
Spirit sound
Meshach and
Abednego
Golden chariot
Swinging low
I recite them
in my sleep
Jordan's cold
and briny deep
Bible lessons
Sunday school
Bow before the
Golden Rule
Now I wonder
If I tried
Could I turn
my cheek aside
Marvelling with
afterthought
Let the blow fall
saying naught
Of my true Christ-
like control
and the nature
of my soul.
Would I strike
with rage divine
Till the culprit
fell supine
Hit out broad all
fury red
Till my foes are
fallen dead
Teachers of my
early youth
Taught forgiveness
stressed the truth
Here then is my
Christian lack:
If I'm struck then
I'll strike back.
83
Artful Pose
Of falling leaves and melting
snows, of birds
in their delights
Some poets sing
their melodies
tendering my nights
sweetly.
My pencil halts
and will not go
along that quiet path
I need to write
of lovers false
and hate
and hateful wrath
quickly.
84
PART FOUR
The Couple
Discard the fear and what
was she? of rag and bones
a mimicry of woman's
fairy ness
Archaic at its birth
Discharge the hate and when
was he? disheveled moans
a mimesis of man's
estate
deceited for its worth
Dissolve the greed and why
were they? enfeebled thrones
a memory of mortal
kindliness
exiled from this earth.
86
The Pusher
He bad
O he bad
He make a honky
poot. Make a honky's
blue eyes squint
anus tight, when
my man look in
the light blue eyes.
He thinks
He don't play
His Afro crown raises
eyes. Raises eyebrows
of wonder and dark
envy when he, combed
out, hits the street.
He sleek
Dashiki
Wax printed on his skin
remembrances of Congo dawns
laced across his chest.
Red Blood Red and Black.
He bought
O He got
Malcolm's paper
back. Checked out the
&nbs
p; photo, caught a few godly
lines. Then wondered how
many wives/daughters of
Honky (miscalled The Man)
bird snake
caught, dug them both.
(Him, Fro-ed Dashiki-ed
and the book.)
He stashed
He stands stashed
Near, too near the MLK
Library. P.S. naught
naught naught. Breathing
slaughter on the Malcolm X
Institute. Whole fist
balled, fingers pressing
palm. Shooting up through
Honky's blue-eyed sky.
"BLACK IS!"
"NATION TIME!"
"TOMORROW'S GLORY HERE TODAY'
Pry free the hand
Observe our Black present.
There lie soft on that
copper palm, a death of
coke. A kill of horse
eternal night's barbiturates.
One hundred youths
sped down to
Speed.
He right
O he bad
He badder than death
yet gives no sweet
release.
89
Chicken-Licken
She was afraid of men,
sin and the humors
of the night.
When she saw a bed
locks clicked
in her brain.
She screwed a frown
around and plugged
it in the keyhole.
Put a chain across
her door and closed
her mind.
Her bones were
found round thirty years later
when they razed
her building to
put up a parking lot.
Autopsy: read
dead of acute peoplelessness.
90
PART FIVE
I Almost Remember
I almost remember
smiling some
years past
even combing the ceiling
with the teeth of a laugh
(longer ago than the smile).
Open night news-eyed I watch
channels of hunger
written on children's faces
bursting bellies balloon
in the air of my day room.
There was a smile, I recall
now jelled in
a never yester glow. Even a laugh
that tickled the tits of
heaven
(older than the smile).
In graphs, afraid, I see the black
brown hands and
white thin yellowed fingers.
Slip slipping from the
ledge of life. Forgotten by
all but hatred.
Ignored
by all but disdain.
On late evenings when
quiet inhabits my garden
when grass sleeps and
streets are only paths for silent
mist.
I seem to remember
Smiling.
93
Prisoner
Even sunlight dares
and trembles through
my bars
to shimmer
dances on
the floor.
A clang of
lock and
keys and heels
and blood-dried
guns.
Even sunshine
dares.
It's jail
and bail
then rails to run.
Guard grey men
serve plates of rattle
noise and concrete
death and beans
Then pale sun stumbles
through the poles of
iron to warm the horror
of grey guard men.
It's jail
and bail
then rails to run.
Black night. The me
myself of me sleeks
in the folds and history
of fear. To secret hold
me deep and close my
ears of lulls and clangs
and memory of hate.
Then night and sleep
and dreams.
It's jail
and bail
then rails to run.
95
Woman Me
Your smile, delicate
rumor of peace.
Deafening revolutions nestle in the
cleavage of
your breasts
Beggar-Kings and red-ringed Priests
seek glory at the meeting
of your thighs
A grasp of Lions, A lap of Lambs.
Your tears, jeweled
strewn a diadem
caused Pharaohs to ride
deep in the bosom of the Nile.
Southern spas lash fast
their doors upon the night when
winds of death blow down your name
A bride of hurricanes,
A swarm of summer wind.
Your laughter, pealing tall
above the bells of ruined cathedrals.
Children reach between your teeth
for charts to live their lives.
A stomp of feet, A bevy of swift hands.
96
John J.
His soul curdled
standing milk
childhood's right gone wrong.
Plum blue, skin brown dusted
eyes black shining,
(His momma didn't want him)
The round head slick silk
Turn around, fall down curls
Old ladies smelling of flour
and talcum powder Cashmere Bouquet, said
"This child is pretty enough to be a girl."
(But his momma didn't want him)
John J. grinned a "How can you resist me?"
and danced to conjure lightning from
a morning's summer sky.
Gave the teacher an apple kiss
(But his momma didn't want him)
His nerves stretched two thousand miles
found a flinging singing lady.
breasting a bar
calling straights on the dice,
gin over ice,
and the 3O's version of
everybody in the
pool.
(She didn't want him.)
98
Southeast Arkanasia
After Eli Whitney's gin
brought to generations' end
bartered flesh and broken bones
Did it cleanse you of your sin
Did you ponder?
Now, when farmers bury wheat
and the cow men dump the sweet
butter down on Davy Jones
Does it sanctify your street
Do you wonder?
Or is guilt your nightly mare
bucking wake your evenings'
share of the stilled repair of groans
&nbs
p; and the absence of despair
over yonder?
99
Song for the Old Ones
My Fathers sit on benches
their flesh count every plank
the slats leave dents of darkness
deep in their withered flanks.
They nod like broken candles
all waxed and burnt profound,
they say "It's understanding
that makes the world go round."
There in those pleated faces
I see the auction block
the chains and slavery's coffles
the whip and lash and stock.
My Fathers speak in voices
that shred my fact and sound
they say "It's our submission
that makes the world go round."
They used the finest cunning
their naked wits and
wiles the lowly Uncle Tomming
and Aunt Jemimas' smiles.
They've laughed to shield their crying
then shuffled through their dreams
and stepped 'n fetched a country
to write the blues with screams.
I understand their meaning
it could and did derive
from living on the edge of death
They kept my race alive.
101
Child Dead in Old Seas
Father,
I wait for you in oceans
tides washing pyramids high
above my head.
Waves, undulating
corn rows around my
black feet.
The heavens shift and
stars find holes set
new in dark infirmity.
My search goes on.
Dainty shells on ash-like wrists
of debutantes remember you.
Childhood's absence has
not stilled your
voice. My ear
listens. You whisper
on the watery passage.
Deep dirges moan
from the
belly of the sea
and your song
floats to me
of lost savannahs
green and
drums. Of palm trees bending
woman-like swaying
grape-blue children