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30 poems in 30 days
day 10: april 16, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)
meet me uptown
this ain't one of them corners mami
brown skinned girls from way uptown ain't got nothing to shake
no estoy vendiendo el pecho
spanish babies go hungry at night above the bodegas
and maria dances with her eyes closed in the corner of the room
maria maria
way uptown willie learned to dance
muevase los pies willie
you hear that music muchacho
and if you close your eyes long enough you'll swear tito never died
meet me uptown mami
take the one or the three
funcione con y no falte su tren
i'll be uptown outside the corner deli where luis and ramon traded punches after trading looks over maria
maria maria
encuentreme uptown
meet me up top
let's dance baby
30 poems in 30 days
day 9: april 15, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)
wear shoes
there's a movement not yet ready to stand up and be accounted for
so i hold him on my shoulders
listen son
this sidewalk hurts
wear shoes
the railroad tracks require boots because of glass
and there will be intersections waiting for your voice
they should go deaf while you spit generational dope lyrics from the top of your lungs cursing the dope dealers and business men
they've kidnapped all our messengers and gave them microphones and chains
you will wear no chains
pay attention
it gets dark at night
carry light
travel light
sleep like the masai
drink a glass of water before you sleep
we gotta be up early to learn the block
so which every path you choose
you'll know how to walk
wear shoes
30 poems in 30 days
day 8: april 14, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)
he said - she said:
so she said:
my biggest fear is to be forgotten
tucked beneath the covers like after sex undies and wet spots hidden from regular lovers
pull those curtains and love me long
pull out and love me deep
none of these fantasies hold bags
none of my bags are empty
i've learned to carry them like my mother and hers
carry on
he said:
when i speak of fingering her
i speak of touching her heart
the space between her legs is void of feelings
she's been cut deep
it's just that
space
we split
i need space
i need feeling
i won't forget you black girl
i've learned to love like my father
part those lips
part those lips
love me like tribesman i am
i won't cut you
i won't void your space
i'll fill it with my bags and love you long time
she said:
i will lay on this bed
don't lie
don't burn this bed
i will give you this pulse
and the children to follow
do not cut me deep
promise
he said:
promise
30 poems in 30 days
day 7: april 13, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)
naima
i wasn't sure how long she'd wait
so i loved as hard and as fast as i could in case we needed to redefine forever
i gave her the best ten years in a matter of minutes
in the end we had grown accustomed to each other's face and living lifetimes in weeks
we must have been born again seven times between dinner and breakfast
she'd fix the wrong bacon when we stopped speaking
and laugh as i bit into it knowing i cared more about my soul than i did her
she didn't understand the whole pork thing
they never do
but i can speak volumes lectures and tongues on jesus
around her mom she'd turn into peter
i didn't exist in real life
not after she found the emails love letters phone logs and pictures
none addressed to her
none mentioning her
pork and church followed each encounter
in the name of jesus i stopped sleeping with other women
i'd come home when i got tired
makes no sense to wake up nailed to a cross she carried
happily she carried
and just short of 9 months i was born again
despite his current self
despite the shoes with shards i left behind and the beds i've burned
i was born again
and i will not be my god
but i will give him one to believe in
the book wasn't strong enough to hold the door open for me so she left
there are no corners waiting on us to meet
i wasn't sure how long she'd wait
and my sense of time is now all fucked up
if forever is now what in jesus' name is seventeen minutes
put your phone on vibrate and put it in your lap
i'll call when i'm coming and you can come too
i'll be there in 5 minutes
30 poems in 30 days
day 6: april 12, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)
good mournin'
the sun ain't never looked like this over this place
i've known greens and yellows and dancing times
this ain't no dancing time
i ain't come here to mourn no children
they ain't lived here and i ain't seen them in the streets
the silent children of a god with no throat
his image seemed a bit shabby til the rain came
gone now
they gone now
no sense in me mournin'
i aint come here to mourn no man
my tears ain't to be buried with nobody but me
i've known whites and lace and flowers like these
things old new and blue
blue
true
i don't want no white dress no more
they seem to hold too much
here comes the
music
no sense in me mournin'
30 poems in 30 days
day 5: april 11, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)
yellow mary
somewhere in florida they're still waiting on me at the polls
i brought death to the home of one of it's own
and i'd do it again
get your fucking gun out of my face officer santiago
it's fucked up we only notice the stars when laid virtuvian style in front of greyhound
yellow mary and her sister lover mother
the swollen bellies never know the origin on their grandmother's dreams
so we speak of theory and lottery numbers over fish fries and tang
do we still drink tang
it wasn't tongues she spoke over that water
yeye emo eja
i just never remember them speaking of her in red
yellow mary bore kids that would always eat
her dress once white
stained to the beat of an old sade song
they cling to her titties like the children her mother never had
knowing this could be the last meal
and all this i learned with a gun to my head.
30 poems in 30 days
day 4: april 10, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)
conjure girl
the church can't be bombed again
i lay my lips on her neck in the third pew between sermon and alter call
if there is one
there will be those church fans and fans of church
i left my bible on her alter
my bible being fairly new in relation to hers
in relations with her we did biblical things
i just want to love you like it say in the bible
conjure girl stole my heart and strands of my hair
so i cut my locks
and had them changed
cut my dreams short in case she expected routine while we slept
she'd visit me there often but in my absence
i stood around the corner watching the watcher
i just want to love you like it say in the bible
ain't shit in your good book about what we do
learning to spell out this relationship
learning to spell out these roots
conjure girl sits in the dark with my lips on her neck but my head on the staff
she's got a way with words
a siren of sorts
she spells
she spells
k-n-o-w your r-o-o-t-s
i give her the flowers
hoping these tu-lips can do more than speak life into her collarbone
hoping black roses meant more than one thing
she'd know
and she'd still love me
true or not
