keeping up with jones

30 poems in 30 days
day 17: april 23, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)


run flower child

ain't enough nina simone songs
bongs/hookahs/shisha
poems
or integrated cups of coffee to make me forget what happened
marcus would place us on the same boat because i have no proof or documentation
run flower child
i'd love to sit with you in a park and pick your brain

30 poems in 30 days
day 16: april 22, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)



wait

when you finish the work early
we sit here and wait to die
if we're lucky it's soon
fill our pockets with letters hoping they won't be mistaken for bread by the buzzards and left behind for the loved ones
i've become successful at tiptoeing around their beliefs and unasked questions
they just stare hoping the tapping of my knuckles on glass will tell my secrets
these will die with me
i promise
the cars are not yet blurry
we are not yet driving fast enough
the bar mate told me there's only one life
love has already proven him wrong
i've met joselyn
and she told me otherwise
something about black girl with natural hair and a canvas i trust
i trust her
i can't walk fast enough
i've waited slowly
and believed fast
these thoughts move through my head seeking permanent habitation and shelter from the storm
the only real things are dreams
but i can not sleep
i want to die watching others take advantage and for granted these lives
this abyss is staring into me knowing nothing is happening soon
and staring into the mirror is only for vanity's sake
but they are everywhere

get them from around me!
a watched body never dies
proven wrong by my aunt in 1991 or years that followed or the funeral procession
proceed
wait

30 poems in 30 days
day 15: april 21, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)


the wall of 812 G

there's a picture on my grandma's wall i want when she dies
hoping god finds beauty in both
and there will be no pain in either

30 poems in 30 days
day 14: april 20, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)



she asked me if i knew stephen
the reason she smoked
she made an attempt at an exorcism
remove these freckles from my face
he found her spot
she was eight then though
and him well into his thirties
he must have been forty my momma said
she read it
i was too young
no i don't know stephen
the reason you smoke
the reason you black out the moon and sleep with dark shadows on the wall
it was a coatrack that scared you
she's almost thirty now
he's almost free now
this next family reunion will be fun
she'll show up with her feminine side in heels and stories to tell of the uncle the other kids never met
what happened to those pretty freckles we used to tease you about little girl
she ain't little no more
she's been waiting for this voice since long before puberty
puberty fucked her up
she now had titties and blood to hide
mama ain't putting me on the pink and yellow pills
and my ass is being grabbed
i read someplace that smoking stunts your growth
they won't notice me behind these pigtails and cigarette butts
smoke it to the brown
in there he plays her
he's touched
they don't leave fingerprints on the back of his head
but they press play on the other side of his eyelids
he gets free
and i want to come to the reunion
but i don't know stephen

30 poems in 30 days
day 13: april 19, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)





lay lady lay

lay lady lay
blow smoke
me
but i'm thinking this is the end
the part where we divide it all down the middle
and my shirts begin to disappear
we split
the cigarettes are never enough
and black men die early
so this twentysomething may be midlife
in which case you should know i will love you forever
just not like this
there are no trees no birds
no more free concerts in brooklyn
tired of eating cake waiting on the sun to rise
things become much too clear
if you can promise a life of darkness i'll stay
and you can keep the pots

30 poems in 30 days
day 12: april 18, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)



pose baby pose stop
meet me in the mirror now
have we met before

30 poems in 30 days
day 11: april 17, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)


friday nights with grandma

hand-me-downs are for white folks
my mama gave bubble gum and kisses on the cheek when i was sleep
covered by the thickness of grandma's cover
we all were raised in this house
some longer than others
me longer than the woman before me
dear god don't let me grow up to be like her