I asked them
what color were they feeling
learned that yellow could hold your excitement
could sing your joy could
be the same as sea foam sprinkled with glitter
came to understand that a lot
of purple is in the
world for a million different
reasons red can be a
very solemn place to sit
or can mean you feel
very tall with no limits
someone claimed the rainbow
because they could not
decide came to understand
they were not in their body
smashing up against
the kaleidoscope fragmenting
outside
prelude
language could help
us build the truth
wake it from where
it sleeps if used like
surgeons knives
to cut past the fat
the augmentations of
smoke and mirror
language has ever been
a weapon always in the
beginning light cut dark on
command the words
opening the void so
we could come forth
stumbling into being
fragile and interdependent
they say the Godz confounded
language confusing understanding
from that time to this moment
then man stole the fire
& ran through the forest willy nilly
setting fires…
Race Card
we don’t discuss race
have the servants sweep it under
the carpet its indelicate most likely
politically incorrect things might be
said we can’t take back leaving us
naked without the protection of
manufactured innocence our eyes
would have to open we would have
to watch our backs out loud the truth
will set you free to experience reality
without commercials you would have
to wear your hate like rappers wear chains
that say I am somebody so strangers
recognize that they reside above the fold your
fear would babble in front of you like
scampering imps holding hands with
your greed skipping in lockstep through
your closed mind
we don’t discuss race
we load words to do dirty work washing
our hands like Pilate before saying the words
that crucified Christ
no fingerprints on the weapon
used to other
slander negate marginalize to fringe thought
playing word games
with deadly outcomes
reducing reality to quips
race card
unpack it
show me what’s
inside that cannon that
so effectively minimizes the
effect of melanin how it colors
more than skin reaches into
perception spawning misconceptions
planting it self like an elephant
on the table in the middle
of most of the rooms in this
crooked house of cards
where those words shut
down discussions of how
right is right and right don’t wrong
nobody who coined the phrase
to make the topic hysterical
irrational loaded it with self
pity in order to drown the
embers banked inside
to erect a wall behind which to hide
to buy shovels for the growing
divide if the questions terrify
what does the answer carry inside
race card
is it like ?freedom papers
?south African papers
?the right answers in a stop and frisk
is it like the
words on bills of ships lading
ownership papers
broken peace treaties
declarations of war
race card is a door stopper
wedged in a locked door
it is a lid on the container
it’s a slap in the face
a guttural “shut up”
in need of dissecting
being taken apart to
examine its privileged pieces
so one can marvel at how
they help to create
the shadow of innocence
in a room full of
cannibals with flesh in
their teeth blood that
won’t fade on hands
that cover mouths in
consternation that someone
would proffer a conversation
about race
so in shades of self-preservation
they play the trump
to end the game
with the utterance
“don’t play the race card”
outro
if we can’t talk
how else do we find
understanding if you
don’t desire understanding
what else do you imagine
might solve the problem
covered beneath
the race card
my mama had hands
knock you into next
Sunday get you right
quick she knew what
you thought before the
thought formed we were
instructed to think
good thoughts she
was intuitive to
a point she wanted things
she discerned how to get them
she was brave had to be
so she was she was bigger than a
survivor she learned to strive
she had secrets some we knew
some we learned others died
with her she was stubborn like that
she had little use for
weakness so we were able
she had been wounded some
where but she kept that to herself
it drove her in ways we could not
understand she medicated her demons
but they would howl
and rage at times
she was hungry for life
she had a small slice her dreams
were big enough to hold more
she was wise in her way knowing
enough to get her way her life
taught more than she shared if you
were a part of her she would fight for
you but she could let go too of some things
not the source of her wounds or
the way life made her a warrior woman
don’t know if she knew she was born to
the sword and shield but she carried the
banner none the less taught me to go
forward in the storm to make what I need
to trust myself because sometimes that
be your only counsel she taught me to
cover the ground with my shadow and
to draw a line you can’t cross with your
hands closed she made me who I be
by negation and adaptation I follow her
down paths she cleared I carry her
with me through doors she never opened
into rooms she would have dominated
had she been given what she gave
she is with me in the deserts of my despair
she is with me on top of the mountain
many mountains behind us
many more in front of us
Ache Mama Ache
look at the view
a buck twenty wet in boots
just growing chin hair
smooth black code
walking tatted
on the chest blazing in
eyes smooth black
warrior immaculate
head tilted locks swinging
fist up life on one side
him on the other
he came to win took a
few but swinging back
no number no more
let it go you
can’t always count on that
but it happens he don’t thug like you
think knows it possible to swim
he refuses to sink
gonna make the wind blow his way
or die trying to harness the wind
all in sinking not an option
he gon’ learn to swim
duck dodge swing again
life can’t be bigger than him
he working it on both sides
growing still living still swinging
trying to bring it down to size
he is the one the chance
the prayer the redemption
the ship leaks so he gone bring it
in against the tide if need be
shoulder in he swings again
don’t need a knock out
just a fair decision winning
his new religion he praying
with hands moving that
hook is a blur his scars medals
of what he has endured
head down stance sure
he closes in on who
he is the part he plays
the song swelling with in
bleeding for himself
sacrifice and the victory
honor finding glory
dancing on the yellow line
redefining the stakes
as the game is played
jab uppercut underhand right
he in there
with a hay maker
coming from the left
or the right
dedicated to living
never giving up the fight
I bet the house on him
piles of things
sitting in the corner of your head
unexamined frozen in time
like when you see your friends
twenty year old you picture as
a kindergartner
the book you were writing
the painting you started
mental clutter
signaling how rarely you
are at home in your own life
where are you living
as dust grows over the must do
list to the point that dusting
makes the list how did it come to this
all that heavy stuff in the middle
of the room gone trip you up
if you don’t clean it up
you may need to come home
seems all the closets are full
the weeds ate the tomatoes
you meant to water before
you forgot you planted
them the un-spoken thoughts
left in the dark till the same
situation pokes its head up from
the basement where you stuffed
it because the attic was full
with untended things no room
to process new things maybe
go mountain climbing all
things become is with or without
you or perhaps do the dusting
might be treasure among the trash
maybe its time for a spring brain
cleanse eat only light for seven days
then throw up the garbage with
the gold maybe using a strainer
maybe letting it all hit the toilet
more will grow
he touched me
with the thought of me
being beautiful moved
me by thinking i was
rare it made me hungry
for the way he saw me
he touched me
by seeing past the dust
a diamond underneath
so I aspired to reflect the
shine he saw he touched
me with the thought that
I was liquid fire capable of
burning that made me hot
steamy sexy he touched me
making me understand
I am a woman the music
called me he was jazz sweet
soul deep an addiction I
fed cause he touched me
showing me where my
heart was how big it was
how strong it beat he touched
me like a concert pianist plays
piano I sang along
cause he touched me so talented
wounded by his art lyricist
said the world I could see it
so I made it come true
then he was gone
I can still hear the music
& I know I am better
cause he touched me
you told me i was cool
true
like cucumbers in the summer
undeniably fresh
but you never understood
i was for real
told you my dreams
they all came true
except the dreams i held
onto about you funny
we keep running in to one another
maybe we were going the same
place even though you couldn’t see
it would not believe on it
let it fall in a crack that
weeds grew out of
i let go of lots of things
to walk in the ocean hear
the dead so i could innerstand
dirt my relationship to the stars
why i walk the earth
my imperative from birth
i let you go finally this time now
a year that could have been forever
something that turned to nothing
an ash from a fire that warmed me
the cup the cold water was in
before i drank it
left behind like rooms i
used to wander in looking for an exit
like flowers bought a week ago
the beauty of the blooms
and the intoxicating smell
i let you & those dreams go
i claim the right to fill the space
with mountains in front of me
you would need to climb
i don’t stand still
you would have to run
i kept dreaming
you would have to learn to believe
& maybe it just took you too long
to be able to see me
still cool
when the spirit burns
beds go unmade
boxes don’t get unpacked
no meals are cooked so
there are no dishes to wash
one purpose sustains
every corpuscle
turned to I will
every muscle
all thoughts
every intention
bend to task
I am we
we are infinite
we know nothing of failure
although of course we have fell down
we bounce back
hive mind
we will
mountains move
seas part
skies open
even in the absence of
manna we shall be fed
the work of the hands
is a powerful prayer
miracles abound here
many mountains behind us
many mountains before us
building the road as we go
one in a million
or one working harder
than one million
always on looking
for the crack in the door
lucid dreamer
taking notes
one more mountain
knowing there is another beyond
hungry
tapped into the infinite
growing
vision exceeds grasp
distilling the lessons
wrapped in falling
revealed as opportunity
diamond grind
radiance reflecting
inner shine
dedicated
sometimes tired never weary
eyes on the prize
got grit
determined
fluid knowing what
won’t bend probably
break
the real thing
hard in the paint
above the rim
unlikely candidate
certain to win
refuses to fail
playing the game
immaculately
nothing but
stars above
this hustle
we carry things
some our own
some older than us
some belong to others
we carry them all the same
in the tender light we navigate
by we religiously carry
the jagged edges of
broken promises
the tight tangle of
transgressions
trees cut down bridges burned
sacks of ashes
watered by tears
salting open wounds
a legacy of
falling skies
dark corners
places where words failed
holes inside
filled with unrequited desire
dangerous dreams
and other sharp objects
we carry things we can’t set down
things that define the way we walk
this life the way we drink it down
the way we sing its song
burdens that bind us up
break us in places we can’t reach
bend us into shapes that won’t be remade
except by fire marching up mountains
or breaking cycles
things that
can’t understand themselves
instruct us to suffer the load
they can point the way
give you the reason
steel up your resolve to
lift them higher to dance them done
to settle the score right the scale
pay the debt find the balance
restore reciprocity
transform the load into
promises kept
honor restored
glory
victorious
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