walking with wilson

i have been walking with wilson

out by the ocean

cross the water

seen both sides

got baptized by a ghost

who gave me a song

that was my own

drug that song thru the graveyard

wrapped it in star dust

gave it to me in a shiny package

i have bled will bleed for that song

its mine can’t nobody else sing it

it ain’t for sale wouldn’t go with the

buyer if i tried its mine god wrote

the beginning and the end i am

tinkering with the middle i can do

that its my duty to my life

so i’m singing it on the yellow line

of the freeway living it everyday

loudly like the bass player who

greets the sun waking it pulling

it from the dark of night at the edge of dawn

walking with wilson thru cotton fields

to a sound track with foot lights

in a new millenium still dodging joe turner

reviving chain gang hollars

being instructed by a dead man

has brought color to the dream that

used to be a black and white compulsion

with hard edges that pushed me forward

even when there were rocks

wilson has shown me the places

where the rocks themselves are portals

walking with wilson unfurling tomorrow

from yesterday by overstanding now

like the way the ocean returns

wilson is my return

my tide that leads home

true north a lions roar

the lens that sees from

within centered in self

radiating out

i am walking with wilson

& wilson is walking with me

About Ayodele Nzinga, MFA, PhD

I create; therefore I am.
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