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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…
Discard the fear and whatwas she? Of rag and bonesa mimicry of woman’sfairy-nessArchaic at its birth. Discharge the hate and whenwas he? Disheveled moansa mimesis of man’sestatedeceited for its worth. Dissolve the greed and whywere they? Enfeebled thronesa memory of…
Of falling leaves and meltingsnows, of birdsin their delightsSome poets singtheir melodiestendering my nightssweetly. My pencil haltsand will not goalong that quiet path.I need to writeof lovers false and hateand hateful wrathquickly.
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…
Be me a PharaohBuild me high pyramids of stone and questionSee me the Nileat twilightand jaguars moving tothe slow cool draught. Swim me CongoHear me the tails of alligatorsflapping waves that reacha yester shore. Swing me vines, beyond that baobab…
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…
Thus she had lainsugarcane sweetdeserts her hairgolden her feetmountains her breaststwo Niles her tears.Thus she has lainBlack through the years. Over the white seasrime white and coldbrigands ungentledicicle boldtook her young daughterssold her strong sonschurched her with Jesusbled her with…
If this country is a bastardwill the lowdown mother userwho ran offand left the womanmoaning in hergreen deliveryplease come back and claimhis love child.Give a legal name to beg fromfor the firsttime of its life.
Give me your hand Make room for meto lead and followyoubeyond this rage of poetry. Let others havethe privacy oftouching wordsand love of lossof love. For meGive me your hand.
A daydrunk with the nectar ofnownessweaves its way betweenthe yearsto find itself at the flophouseof nightto sleep and be seenno more. Will I be lessdead because I wrote thispoem or you more becauseyou read itlong years hence.