Read The Complete Collected Poems Page 4

laugh on beaches

  of sand as

  white as your bones

  clean

  on the foot of

  long-ago waters.

 

  Father.

  I wait for you

  wrapped in

  the entrails of

  whales. Your

  blood now

  blues

  spume

  over

  the rippled

  surface of our

  grave.

 

  103

 

  Take Time Out

 

  When you see them

  on a freeway hitching rides

  wearing beads

  with packs by their sides

  you ought to ask

  What's all the

  warring and the jarring

  and the

  killing and

  the thrilling

  all about.

 

  Take Time Out.

 

  When you see him

  with a band around his head

  and an army surplus bunk

  that makes his bed. You'd

  better ask What's

  all the

  beating and

  the cheating and

  the bleeding and

  the needing

  all about.

 

  Take Time Out.

 

  When you see her walking

  Barefoot in the rain

  And you know she's tripping

  one a one-way train

  you need to ask

  what's all the

  lying and the

  dying and

  the running and

  the gunning

  all about.

 

  Take Time Out.

 

  Use a minute

  feel some sorrow

  for the folks

  who think tomorrow

  is a place that they

  can call up

  on the phone.

  Take a month

  and show some kindness

  for the folks

  who thought that blindness

  was an illness that

  affected eyes alone.

 

  If you know that youth

  is dying on the run

  and my daughter trades

  dope stories with your son

  we'd better see

  what all our

  fearing and our

  jeering and our

  crying and

  our lying

  brought about.

 

  Take Time Out.

 

  106

 

  Elegy

  for Harriet Tubman & Frederick Douglass

 

  I lay down in my grave

  and watch my children

  grow

  Proud blooms

  above the weeds of death.

 

  Their petals wave

  and still nobody

  knows the soft black

  dirt that is my winding

  sheet. The worms, my friends,

  yet tunnel holes in

  bones and through those

  apertures I see the rain.

  The sunfelt warmth

  now jabs

  within my space and

  brings me roots of my

  children born.

 

  Their seeds must fall

  and press beneath

  this earth,

  and find me where I

  wait. My only need to

  fertilize their birth.

 

  I lay down in my grave

  and watch my children

  grow.

 

  108

 

  Reverses

 

  How often must we

  butt to head

  Mind to ass

  flank to nuts

  cock to elbow

  hip to toe

  soul to shoulder

  confront ourselves

  in our past.

 

  109

 

  Little Girl Speakings

 

  Ain't nobody better's my Daddy,

  you keep yo' quauter

  I ain't yo' daughter,

  Ain't nobody better's my Daddy.

 

  Ain't nothing prettier'n my dollie

  heard what I said,

  don't pat her head,

  Ain't nothing prettier'n my dollie.

 

  No lady cookinger than my Mommy

  smell that pie,

  see I don't lie

  No lady cookinger than my Mommy.

 

  110

 

  This Winter Day

 

  The kitchen is its readiness

  white green and orange things

  leak their blood selves in the soup.

 

  Ritual sacrifice that snaps

  an odor at my nose and starts

  my tongue to march

  slipping in the liquid of it drip.

 

  The day, silver striped

  in rain, is balked against

  my window and the soup.

 

  111

 

  AND STILL I RISE

 

  This book is dedicated to a

  few of the Good Guys

 

  You to laugh with

  You to cry to

  I can just about make

  it over

 

  JESSICA MITFORD

  GERARD W. PURCELL

  JAY ALLEN

 

  PART ONE

 

  Touch Me, Life,

  Not Softly

 

  A Kind of Love, Some Say

 

  Is it true the ribs can tell

  The kick of a beast from a

  Lover's fist? The bruised

  Bones recorded well

  The sudden shock, the

  Hard impact. Then swollen lids,

  Sorry eyes, spoke not

  Of lost romance, but hurt.

 

  Hate often is confused. Its

  Limits are in zones beyond itself. And

  Sadists will not learn that

  Love by nature, exacts a pain

  Unequalled on the rack.

 

  116

 

  Country Lover

 

  Funky blues

  Keen toed shoes

  High water pants

  Saddy night dance

  Red soda water

  and anybody's daughter

 

  117

 

  Remembrance

  for Paul

 

  Your hands easy

  weight, teasing the bees

  hived in my hair, your smile at the

  slope of my cheek. On the

  occasion, you press

  above me, glowing, spouting

  readiness, mystery rapes

  my reason.

 

  When you have withdrawn

  your self and the magic, when

  only the smell of your love lingers between

  my breasts, then, only

  then, can I greedily consume

  your presence.

 

  118

 

  Where We Belong, A Duet

 

  In every town and village,

  In every city square,

  In crowded places

  I searched the faces

  Hoping to find

  Someone to care.

 


  I read mysterious meanings

  In the distant stars,

  Then I went to schoolrooms

  And poolrooms

  And half-lighted cocktail bars.

  Braving dangers,

  Going with strangers,

  I don't even remember their names.

  I was quick and breezy

  And always easy

  Playing romantic games.

 

  I wined and dined a thousand exotic Joans and Janes

  In dusty dance halls, at debutante balls,

  On lonely country lanes.

  I fell in love forever,

  Twice every year or so.

  I wooed them sweetly, was theirs completely,

  But they always let me go.

  Saying bye now, no need to try now,

  You don't have the proper charms.

  Too sentimental and much too gentle

  I don't tremble in your arms.

 

  Then you rose into my life

  Like a promised sunrise.

  Brightening my days with the light in your eyes.

  I've never been so strong,

  Now I'm where I belong.

 

  120

 

  Phenomenal Woman

 

  Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.

  I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size

  But when I start to tell them,

  They think I'm telling lies.

  I say,

  It's in the reach of my arms,

  The span of my hips,

  The stride of my step,

  The curl of my lips.

 

  I'm a woman

  Phenomenally.

  Phenomenal woman,

  That's me.

 

  I walk into a room

  Just as cool as you please,

  And to a man,

  The fellows stand or

  Fall down on their knees.

  Then they swarm around me,

  A hive of honey bees.

  I say,

  It's the fire in my eyes,

  And the flash of my teeth,

  The swing in my waist,

  And the joy in my feet.

 

  I'm a woman

  Phenomenally.

  Phenomenal woman,

  That's me.

 

  Men themselves have wondered

  What they see in me.

  They try so much

  But they can't touch

  My inner mystery.

  When I try to show them

  They say they still can't see.

  I say,

  It's in the arch of my back,

  The sun of my smile,

  The ride of my breasts,

  The grace of my style.

 

  I'm a woman

  Phenomenally.

  Phenomenal woman,

  That's me.

 

  Now you understand

  Just why my head's not bowed.

  I don't shout or jump about

  Or have to talk real loud.

  When you see me passing

  It ought to make you proud.

  I say,

  It's in the click of my heels,

  The bend of my hair,

  the palm of my hand,

  The need for my care.

  'Cause I'm a woman

  Phenomenally.

  Phenomenal woman,

  That's me.

 

  123

 

  Men

 

  When I was young, I used to

  Watch behind the curtains

  As men walked up and down

  The street. Wino men, old men.

  Young men sharp as mustard.

  See them. Men are always

  Going somewhere.

  They knew I was there. Fifteen

  Years old and starving for them.

  Under my window, they would pause,

  Their shoulders high like the

  Breasts of a young girl,

  Jacket tails slapping over

  Those behinds,

  Men.

 

  One day they hold you in the

  Palms of their hands, gentle, as if you

  Were the last raw egg in the world. Then

  They tighten up. Just a little. The

  First squeeze is nice. A quick hug.

  Soft into your defenselessness. A little

  More. The hurt begins. Wrench out a

  Smile that slides around the fear. When the

  Air disappears,

  Your mind pops, exploding fiercely, briefly,

  Like the head of a kitchen match. Shattered.

  It is your juice

  That runs down their legs. Staining their shoes.

  When the earth rights itself again,

  And taste tries to return to the tongue,

  Your body has slammed shut. Forever.

  No keys exist.

 

  Then the window draws full upon

  Your mind. There, just beyond

  The sway of curtains, men walk.

  Knowing something.

  Going someplace.

  But this time, you will simply

  Stand and watch.

 

  Maybe.

 

  125

 

  Refusal

 

  Beloved, In what other lives or lands

  Have I known your lips

  Your hands

  Your laughter brave

  Irreverent.

  Those sweet excesses that

  I do adore.

  What surety is there

  That we will meet again,

  On other worlds some

  Future time undated.

  I defy my body's haste.

  Without the Promise

  Of one more sweet encounter

  I will not deign to die.

 

  126

 

  Just for a Time

 

  Oh how you used to walk

  With that insouciant smile

  I liked to hear you talk

  And your style

  Pleased me for a while.

 

  You were my early love

  New as a day breaking in Spring

  You were the image of

  Everything

  That caused me to sing.

 

  I don't like reminiscing

  Nostalgia is not my fort?

  I don't spill tears

  On yesterday's years

  But honesty makes me say,

  You were a precious pearl

  How I loved to see you shine,

  You were the perfect girl.

  And you were mine.

  For a time.

  For a time.

  Just for a time.

 

  127

 

  PART TWO

 

  Traveling

 

  Junkie Monkey Reel

 

  Shoulders sag,

  The pull of weighted needling.

  Arms drag, smacking wet in soft bone

  Sockets.

 

  Knees thaw,

  Their familiar magic lost. Old bend and

  Lock and bend forgot.

 

  Teeth rock in fetid gums.

  Eyes dart, die, then float in

  Simian juice.

 

  Brains reel,

  Master charts of old ideas erased. The

  Routes are gone beneath the tracks

  Of desert caravans, pre-slavery

  Years ago.

 

  Dreams fail,

  Unguarded fears on homeward streets

  E
mbrace. Throttling in a dark revenge

  Murder is its sweet romance.

 

  How long will

  This monkey dance?

 

  130

 

  The Lesson

 

  I keep on dying again.

  Veins collapse, opening like the

  Small fists of sleeping

  Children.

  Memory of old tombs,

  Rotting flesh and worms do

  Not convince me against

  The challenge. The years

  And cold defeat live deep in

  Lines along my face.

  They dull my eyes, yet

  I keep on dying,

  Because I love to live.

  131

 

  California Prodigal

  for David P-B

 

  The eye follows, the land

  Slips upward, creases down, forms

  The gentle buttocks of a young

  Giant. In the nestle,

  Old adobe bricks, washed of

  Whiteness, paled to umber,

  Await another century.

 

  Star Jasmine and old vines

  Lay claim upon the ghosted land,

  Then quiet pools whisper

  Private childhood secrets.

 

  Flush on inner cottage walls

  Antiquitous faces,

  Used to the gelid breath

  Of old manors, glare disdainfully

  Over breached time.

 

  Around and through these

  Cold phantasmatalities,

  He walks, insisting

  To the languid air,

  Activity, music,

  A generosity of graces.

 

  His lupin fields spurn old

  Deceit and agile poppies dance

  In golden riot. Each day is

  Fulminant, exploding brightly

  Under the gaze of his exquisite

  Sires, frozen in the famed paint

  Of dead masters. Audacious

  Sunlight casts defiance

  At their feet.

 

  133

 

  My Arkansas

 

  There is a deep brooding

  in Arkansas.

  Old crimes like moss pend

  from poplar trees.

  The sullen earth

  is much too

  red for comfort.

 

  Sunrise seems to hesitate

  and in that second

  lose its

  incandescent aim, and

  dusk no more shadows

  than the noon.

  The past is brighter yet.

 

  Old hates and

  ante-bellum lace, are rent

  but not discarded.

  Today is yet to come

  in Arkansas.

  It writhes. It writhes in awful

  waves of brooding.

 

  134

 

  Through the Inner City to the Suburbs

 

  Secured by sooted windows

  And amazement, it is

  Delicious. Frosting filched

  From a company cake.

 

  People. Black and fast. Scattered

  Watermelon seeds on

  A summer street. Grinning in

  ritual, sassy in pomp.

 

  From a slow moving train

  They are precious. Stolen gems

  Unsaleable and dear. Those

  Dusky undulations sweat of forest

  Nights, damp dancing, the juicy

  secrets of black thighs.

 

  Images framed picture perfect

  Do not move beyond the window

  Siding

 

  Strong delectation:

  Dirty stories in changing rooms

  Accompany the slap of wet towels and

  Toilet seats.

  Poli-talk of politician

  Parents: "They need shoes and

  cooze and a private

  warm latrine. I had a colored

  Mammy . . ."

 

  The train, bound for green lawns

  Double garages and sullen women

  in dreaded homes, settles down

  On its habit track.

  Leaving

  The dark figures dancing

  And grinning. Still

  Grinning.

 

  136

 

  Lady Luncheon Club

 

  Her counsel was accepted: the times are grave.

  A man was needed who would make them think,

  And pay him from the petty cash account.

 

  Our woman checked her golden watch,

  The speaker has a plane to catch.

  Dessert is served (and just in time).

 

  The lecturer leans, thrusts forth his head

  And neck and chest, arms akimbo

  On the lectern top. He summons up

  Sincerity as one might call a favored

  Pet.

 

  He understands the female rage,

  Why Eve was lustful and

  Delilah's

  Grim deceit.

 

  Our woman thinks:

  (This cake is much too sweet.}

 

  He sighs for youthful death

  And rape at ten, and murder of

  The soul stretched over long.

 

  Our woman notes:

  (This coffee's much too strong.)

 

  The jobless streets of

  Wine and wandering when

  Mornings promise no bright relief.

 

  She claps her hands and writes

  Upon her pad: (Next time the

  Speaker must be brief).

 

  138

 

  Momma Welfare Roll

 

  Her arms semaphore fat triangles,

  Pudgy hands bunched on layered hips

  Where bones idle under years of fatback

  And lima beans.

  Her jowls shiver in accusation

  Of crimes clich?d by

  Repetition. Her children, strangers

  To childhood's toys, play

  Best the games of darkened doorways,

  Rooftop tag, and know the slick feel of

  Other people's property.

 

  Too fat to whore,

  Too mad to work,

  Searches her dreams for the

  Lucky sign and walks bare-handed

  Into a den of bureaucrats for

  Her portion.

  "They don't give me welfare.

  I take it."

 

  139

 

  The Singer Will Not Sing

  for A.L.

 

  A benison given. Unused,

  No angels promised,

  wings fluttering banal lies

  behind their sexlessness. No

  trumpets gloried

  prophecies of fabled fame.

  Yet harmonies waited in

  her stiff throat. New notes

  lay expectant on her

  stilled tongue.

 

  Her lips are ridged and

  fleshy. Purpled night birds

  snuggled to rest.

  The mouth seamed, voiceless,

  Sounds do not lift beyond

  those reddened walls.

 

  She came too late and lonely

  to this place.

 

  140

 

  Willie

 

&nbs
p; Willie was a man without fame

  Hardly anybody knew his name.

  Crippled and limping, always walking lame,

  He said, "I keep on movin'

  Movin' just the same."

  Solitude was the climate in his head

  Emptiness was the partner in his bed,

  Pain echoed in the steps of his tread,

  He said, "I keep on followin'

  Where the leaders led."

 

  I may cry and I will die,

  But my spirit is the soul of every spring,

  Watch for me and you will see

  That I'm present in the songs that children sing.

 

  People called him "Uncle," "Boy" and "Hey,"

  Said, "You can't live through this another day."

  Then, they waited to hear what he would say.

  He said, "I'm living

  In the games that children play.

 

  "You may enter my sleep, people my dreams,

  Threaten my early morning's ease,

  But I keep comin' followin' laughin' cryin',

  Sure as a summer breeze.

 

  "Wait for me, watch for me.

  My spirit is the surge of open seas.

  Look for me, ask for me,

  I'm the rustle in the autumn leaves.

 

  "When the sun rises

  I am the time.

  When the children sing

  I am the Rhyme."

 

  142

 

  To Beat the Child Was Bad Enough

 

  A young body, light

  As winter sunshine, a new

  Seed's bursting promise,

  Hung from a string of silence

  Above its future.

  (The chance of choice was never known.]

  Hunger, new hands, strange voices,

  Its cry came natural, tearing.