as chopsticks for soup
like a monkey eating scotch bonnets
you have to want it
good luck is a myth
thin as a Theban cookie
as your skin if you don't get it
checked-off triggers in academia
fired as a porcelain finger up
kilned in an undertone of glazing
grace is a saying and a Name
tweaked as an ego or a jacket
potato is a hashing at 3 a.m.
iHopper lingering is a tension
getting to the hearth of it
another homer hit past time's fence
foe knocking at your big teeth in front
like a door to your cheeks
puffed with a nut-angle oblique
playing a game of mother elephant
a recess abbreviated by a bad pronunciation
intonation of inspiration at the bell
wrung and swung along a well-tread trail
as dirty as a thurible
Carolina
clay soil
red with iron
fired
kilned hot
red clay bricks
a hawk
soaring through
lotus blue sky
a vulture
soaring higher
not a sound
Nomenclature
Nomenclature robed in wealth of words
The hot sauce that makes the tongue hurry
I am the live in the lively garment of merry
Like a hare I burrow to the worlds.
Esther had a dream last night
She said I am called Victory
Like in the Mordecai's story
To darkness a spill of light.
I am what I am called
Spiced and baked in Grace
I am a perfect breathing oeuvre
In clean clay, mixed and kilned.
I have written my name in gold
Bright effect, large format and space
Stellar polished over and over…
I am dark shine and bold.
I am the Goodness kidnapped by blessing
The laughter on the lips of sadness
The contagious smile pocketed in the hollow of frown
I am the throne of the King mercy.
I am the tiny thing in the Bosom of The I AM
The decorated ass of gladness
The new noise in town
Like the celebration of the new yam...
I am the greatly true and real
My name is not in the book of abstractions
My fate is not the man of superstitions
I am the planted dead grown cereal…
I am the branch in the Vine
Sprouting abroad…across nations
Godly-spread intending intentions
I am the wonder and my root is Divine.
18TH APRIL, 2015
Coming upon…
Morose shabby hovelled homes
Heat scorched children playing
Sun bleached innocence
Resolve slowly evaporating
In the arid wasteland heat of
The badlands of Wounded Knee
Brilliant pallid…
Laundry whites on outside lines
A broken spirit of surrender
Sun blanched innocence
The tribal elders sullen smiles
Kilned into perfections ersatz in
The fires of Wounded Knee
Night elapses…
Reprieve called for in the Anepe
Under the stifling desert heat
Sun burned innocence
Dry fields lay across this wasteland
Only the proud Sioux spirit endures in
The shadows of Wounded Knee
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