keeping up with jones

30 poems in 30 days
day 3: april 9, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)


de first ting smokin'

we be on de first ting smokin'
or de second

ain't no waters like concrete unless you hit it on the way down they say
but this life ain't outta my reach yet
those tires ain't magic and we can't hop on seas
tickle fish feet with our toes and swallow watermelon seeds when we reach the other side
whatever is there
they grow watermelon on the other side won't they

we be on de first ting smokin'
or de second

she tell de boy
take me to the waters and remind me why we can't really leave
undress me and tell me why i packed in vain

he reply
we just ride
you pull de watermelon seeds out my bag and eat

and when they can they'll build themselves a sun
a moon much later
and sew together the handmedown lullabies and old britches

me don't wan live like here

first they gotta hop on the first thing smoking

30 poems in 30 days
day 2: april 8, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)



the hunger:

the jacket was for show only
the pockets weren't real
small slits cut in to hold just as much as he'd been able to naked
his sack was big he believed
his nuts somehow bigger
but he kept his eyes closed in the locker room
and his mouth closed at the dinner table
he had no say so in that matter
ain't no coincidence about his sack
his nuts dropped and his hustle grew
ain't gonna be no more immaculate conceptions
one dead rabbit is enough
he rapped with niggas who made lefts at forks and all the bad decisions when the right ones seemed so easy
there's much to be said about the god of them all
but between those scriptures he needed his name mentioned and everything due him put on front street
easy street
the block where he grew up
and nuts
it's nothing to stare into the eyes of the severed head
but nuts seem to go unnoticed when the eyes of the patriarch are staring at you over fried apples biscuits and apple butter
no - the jacket was for show
the joke at christmas to hide the part of his body least exposed
for fucks sakes
who puts on a hoodie with their fingers crossed?
no one asked what he wished for that one day over the fire
the candles
the candles
the candles
the party wasn't really his
the candles
no more lights around here thanks to the story of jesus
god don't come around here no more
not since the last dead rabbit
got him a girl baby
immaculately named jennifer
what you gonna put in your pockets now son?
your hands don't fit in the slit
and everything else you got will get you killed
or rico'd upstate
where god spends his summers
and his kid's adolescent years
what's in those pockets?

30 poems in 30 days
day 1: april 7, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)


she spoke

she spoke
not the bullshit conversation starters and 'p' pronunciations full of spit and caked up corners
but true to life shit
parted lips are not made for whispering
legs parted at the knees and the beautiful spaces unoccupied between the top of her thighs
triangular
she's been waiting on me and the sun to rise for the last few days
fuck fuck fuck she'd scream to the same god acknowledge just moments before
something about him visiting whenever we'd fuck
make love
fuck
fuck
fuck
hair tangled so my hands would never leave
eyes open just in case
she wanted to watch me stay
come
something about the man she hopes i'd never know or grow into
i thought they were the same
just something about my mustache that helped her tell the difference
twist baby
remove my eyes from my pen and tablet
part your lips and legs
speak it
she spoke

-me