Day 9 of 30


while i hope my life endures
the test of time and many tours
it only counts if it amounts
to much less mine and much more yours


Day 8 of 30

(the good ones, of course. lol)

how they pass on and passion and
dance and dip and press and sweat and
shoulder and knee and back and back of knee
and lobe and taste and touch and trust
and fluster and free and naked and free
and sing aloud loudly and sing aloud and sing
and sing entangled enraptured and break
open and up and out but never in and say
something and say it again and ask and
say it again and yes is love and no is love
when met with love and
how dirty ain’t the same as dirt
or a dirty word

Day 6 of 30

(for a young lady I met today in San Antonio)

a murmuring heart thanked me today
for being an obelisk of brittle
bones breaking publicly
crumbling in its presence
calling it cousin and comrade
and on beat and off beat
and nothing not normal

Day 5 of 30

(for the kids in Parkland and everywhere else, who have had enough)

on a sweaty night
one void of romance or tenderness
or human compassion a night of
hate making fear making
tongues vaccumed to the backs
of throats raw with carnality
mouths hollowed empty hallways
sweet nothing-less
sour and silent

a baby is conceived
and after a few minutes
just a few moments comes
journeying a short distance
tearing from a urethra
all springs and steel and grip

pat it on its back to make
sure it’s alive
warm it with your palms
and marvel at its glint
whisper to it what it will
be when it grows up
big and strong and powerful
and aimed at greatness

put it to your breast but
be careful of its suckling
it teethes early
feed it and feed it and feed it
feed it until it’s full
feed it and be proud
of your fat rambunctious baby
your offspring with no off switch

your mirror
whose mess you will never
be able to clean up

Day 4 of 30

(a profile, for the 50th Anniversary of Dr. King’s Death)

a man who had just finished eating
fried chicken and catfish with his
brother and pillow
fighting with his partners
laughing and laughing unwound
blowing off steam before
unrolling sleeves tightening tie
coating and masking and getting back
to the work of trying to remove
the bullet from america’s skull

has just been told by america
that america dont think he no doctor
that america feels fine
that america hasn’t noticed the blood
in its own eye

Day 3 of 30


to fight white air
wrapped around brown
throat bluffing as breeze

is to become a fireball
a skin-peeling heat
orb that burns inside
out through conviction
with conviction on what
it takes to cut gust

and who on earth can deny a sun?
and who will not miss it
when midnight is only
and the wind is whipping
and whipping the dark?