The Complete Collected Poems, Page 3

  The other, the end of a

  sure beginning.

 

  62

 

  Now Long Ago

 

  One innocent spring

  your voice meant to me

  less than tires turning

  on a distant street.

 

  Your name, perhaps spoken,

  led no chorus of

  batons

  unrehearsed

  to crush against my

  empty chest.

 

  That cool spring

  was shortened by

  your summer, bold impatient

  and all forgotten

  except when silence

  turns the key

  into my midnight bedroom

  and comes to sleep upon your

  pillow.

 

  63

 

  Greyday

 

  The day hangs heavy

  loose and grey

  when you're away.

 

  A crown of thorns

  a shirt of hair

  is what I wear.

 

  No one knows

  my lonely heart

  when we're apart.

 

  64

 

  Poor Girl

 

  You've got another love

  and I know it

  Someone who adores you

  just like me

  Hanging on your words

  like they were gold

  Thinking that she understands

  your soul

  Poor Girl

  Just like me.

 

  You're breaking another heart

  and I know it

  And there's nothing

  I can do

  If I try to tell her

  what I know

  She'll misunderstand

  and make me go

  Poor Girl

  Just like me.

 

  You're going to leave her too

  and I know it

  She'll never know

  what made you go

  She'll cry and wonder

  what went wrong

  Then she'll begin

  to sing this song

  Poor Girl

  Just like me.

 

  66

 

  Come, And Be My Baby

 

  The highway is full of big cars

  going nowhere fast

  And folks is smoking anything that'll burn

  Some people wrap their lives around a cocktail glass

  And you sit wondering

  where you're going to turn

  I got it.

  Come. And be my baby.

 

  Some prophets say the world is gonna end tomorrow

  But others say we've got a week or two

  The paper is full of every kind of blooming horror

  And you sit wondering

  What you're gonna do.

  I got it.

  Come. And be my baby.

 

  67

 

  Senses of Insecurity

 

  I couldn't tell fact from fiction

  or if my dream was true,

  The only sure prediction

  in this whole world was you.

  I'd touched your features inchly

  heard love and dared the cost.

  The scented spiel reeled me unreal

  and found my senses lost.

 

  68

 

  Alone

 

  Lying, thinking

  Last night

  How to find my soul a home

  Where water is not thirsty

  And bread loaf is not stone

  I came up with one thing

  And I don't believe I'm wrong

  That nobody,

  But nobody

  Can make it out here alone.

  Alone, all alone

  Nobody, but nobody

  Can make it out here alone.

 

  There are some millionaires

  With money they can't use

  Their wives run round like banshees

  Their children sing the blues

  They've got expensive doctors

  To cure their hearts of stone.

  But nobody

  No nobody

  Can make it out here alone.

  Alone, all alone

  Nobody, but nobody

  Can make it out here alone.

 

  Now if you listen closely

  I'll tell you what I know

  Storm clouds are gathering

  The wind is gonna blow

  The race of man is suffering

  And I can hear the moan,

  Cause nobody,

  But nobody

  Can make it out here alone.

  Alone, all alone

  Nobody, but nobody

  Can make it out here alone.

 

  70

 

  Communication I

 

  She wished of him a lover's kiss and

  nights of coupled twining

  They laced themselves

  between the trees

  and to the water's edge.

 

  Reminding her

  the cratered moon lay light years away

  he spoke of Greece, the Parthenon

  and Cleopatra's barge.

 

  She splayed her foot

  up to the shin

  within the ocean brine.

 

  He quoted Pope and Bernard Shaw

  and Catcher in the Rye.

 

  Her sandal lost

  she dried her toe

  and then she mopped her brow.

 

  Dry-eyed

  she walked into her room

  and frankly told her mother

  "Of all he said I understood,

  he said he loved another."

 

  71

 

  Communication II

  for Adele

 

  The Student

 

  The dust of ancient pages

  had never touched his face,

  and fountains black and comely

  were mummyied in a place

  beyond

  his young un-knowing.

 

  The Teacher

 

  She shared the lettered strivings

  of etched Pharaonic walls

  and Reconstruction's anguish

  resounded down the halls

  of all her

  dry dreams.

 

  72

 

  Wonder

 

  A day

  drunk with the nectar of

  nowness

  weaves its way between

  the years

  to find itself at the flophouse

  of night

  to sleep and be seen

  no more.

 

  Will I be less

  dead because I wrote this

  poem or you more because

  you read it

  long years hence.

 

  73

 

  A Conceit

 

  Give me your hand

 

  Make room for me

  to lead and follow

  you

  beyond this rage of poetry.

 

  Let others have

  the privacy of

&nb
sp; touching words

  and love of loss

  of love.

 

  For me

  Give me your hand.

 

  74

 

  PART THREE

 

  Request

 

  If this country is a bastard

  will the lowdown mother user

  who ran off

  and left the woman

  moaning in her

  green delivery

  please come back and claim

  his love child.

  Give a legal name to beg from

  for the first

  time of its life.

 

  76

 

  Africa

 

  Thus she had lain

  sugar cane sweet

  deserts her hair

  golden her feet

  mountains her breasts

  two Niles her tears

  Thus she has lain

  Black through the years.

 

  Over the white seas

  rime white and cold

  brigands ungentled

  icicle bold

  took her young daughters

  sold her strong sons

  churched her with Jesus

  bled her with guns.

  Thus she has lain.

 

  Now she is rising

  remember her pain

  remember the losses

  her screams loud and vain

  remember her riches

  her history slain

  now she is striding

  although she had lain.

 

  77

 

  America

 

  The gold of her promise

  has never been mined

 

  Her borders of justice

  not clearly defined

 

  Her crops of abundance

  the fruit and the grain

 

  Have not fed the hungry

  nor eased that deep pain

 

  Her proud declarations

  are leaves on the wind

 

  Her southern exposure

  black death did befriend

 

  Discover this country

  dead centuries cry

 

  Erect noble tablets

  where none can decry

 

  "She kills her bright future

  and rapes for a sou

 

  Then entraps her children

  with legends untrue"

 

  I beg you

 

  Discover this country.

 

  79

 

  For Us, Who Dare Not Dare

 

  Be me a Pharaoh

  Build me high pyramids of stone and question

  See me the Nile

  at twilight

  and jaguars moving to

  the slow cold draught.

 

  Swim me Congo

  Hear me the tails of alligators

  flapping waves that reach

  a yester shore.

 

  Swing me vines, beyond that Bao-Bab tree,

  and talk me chief

  Sing me birds

  flash color lightening through bright green leaves.

 

  Taste me fruit

  its juice free falling from

  a mother tree.

 

  Know me

 

  Africa.

 

  80

 

  Lord, In My Heart

  for Countee Cullen

 

  Holy haloes

  Ring me round

 

  Spirit waves on

  Spirit sound

 

  Meshach and

  Abednego

 

  Golden chariot

  Swinging low

 

  I recite them

  in my sleep

 

  Jordan's cold

  and briny deep

 

  Bible lessons

  Sunday school

 

  Bow before the

  Golden Rule

 

  Now I wonder

  If I tried

 

  Could I turn

  my cheek aside

 

  Marvelling with

  afterthought

 

  Let the blow fall

  saying naught

 

  Of my true Christ-

  like control

 

  and the nature

  of my soul.

 

  Would I strike

  with rage divine

 

  Till the culprit

  fell supine

 

  Hit out broad all

  fury red

 

  Till my foes are

  fallen dead

 

  Teachers of my

  early youth

 

  Taught forgiveness

  stressed the truth

 

  Here then is my

  Christian lack:

 

  If I'm struck then

  I'll strike back.

  83

 

  Artful Pose

  Of falling leaves and melting

  snows, of birds

  in their delights

  Some poets sing

  their melodies

  tendering my nights

  sweetly.

 

  My pencil halts

  and will not go

  along that quiet path

  I need to write

  of lovers false

 

  and hate

  and hateful wrath

  quickly.

 

  84

 

  PART FOUR

 

  The Couple

 

  Discard the fear and what

  was she? of rag and bones

  a mimicry of woman's

  fairy ness

  Archaic at its birth

 

  Discharge the hate and when

  was he? disheveled moans

  a mimesis of man's

  estate

  deceited for its worth

 

  Dissolve the greed and why

  were they? enfeebled thrones

  a memory of mortal

  kindliness

  exiled from this earth.

 

  86

 

  The Pusher

 

  He bad

  O he bad

  He make a honky

  poot. Make a honky's

  blue eyes squint

  anus tight, when

  my man look in

  the light blue eyes.

 

  He thinks

  He don't play

  His Afro crown raises

  eyes. Raises eyebrows

  of wonder and dark

  envy when he, combed

  out, hits the street.

 

  He sleek

  Dashiki

  Wax printed on his skin

  remembrances of Congo dawns

  laced across his chest.

  Red Blood Red and Black.

 

  He bought

  O He got

  Malcolm's paper

  back. Checked out the

&nbs
p; photo, caught a few godly

  lines. Then wondered how

  many wives/daughters of

  Honky (miscalled The Man)

  bird snake

  caught, dug them both.

  (Him, Fro-ed Dashiki-ed

  and the book.)

 

  He stashed

  He stands stashed

  Near, too near the MLK

  Library. P.S. naught

  naught naught. Breathing

  slaughter on the Malcolm X

  Institute. Whole fist

  balled, fingers pressing

  palm. Shooting up through

  Honky's blue-eyed sky.

  "BLACK IS!"

  "NATION TIME!"

  "TOMORROW'S GLORY HERE TODAY'

  Pry free the hand

  Observe our Black present.

  There lie soft on that

  copper palm, a death of

  coke. A kill of horse

  eternal night's barbiturates.

  One hundred youths

  sped down to

  Speed.

 

  He right

  O he bad

  He badder than death

  yet gives no sweet

  release.

 

  89

 

  Chicken-Licken

 

  She was afraid of men,

  sin and the humors

  of the night.

  When she saw a bed

  locks clicked

  in her brain.

 

  She screwed a frown

  around and plugged

  it in the keyhole.

  Put a chain across

  her door and closed

  her mind.

 

  Her bones were

  found round thirty years later

  when they razed

  her building to

  put up a parking lot.

 

  Autopsy: read

  dead of acute peoplelessness.

 

  90

 

  PART FIVE

 

  I Almost Remember

 

  I almost remember

  smiling some

  years past

  even combing the ceiling

  with the teeth of a laugh

  (longer ago than the smile).

  Open night news-eyed I watch

  channels of hunger

  written on children's faces

  bursting bellies balloon

  in the air of my day room.

 

  There was a smile, I recall

  now jelled in

  a never yester glow. Even a laugh

  that tickled the tits of

  heaven

  (older than the smile).

  In graphs, afraid, I see the black

  brown hands and

  white thin yellowed fingers.

 

  Slip slipping from the

  ledge of life. Forgotten by

  all but hatred.

  Ignored

  by all but disdain.

 

  On late evenings when

  quiet inhabits my garden

  when grass sleeps and

  streets are only paths for silent

  mist.

 

  I seem to remember

  Smiling.

  93

 

  Prisoner

 

  Even sunlight dares

  and trembles through

  my bars

  to shimmer

  dances on

  the floor.

  A clang of

  lock and

  keys and heels

  and blood-dried

  guns.

  Even sunshine

  dares.

 

  It's jail

  and bail

  then rails to run.

 

  Guard grey men

  serve plates of rattle

  noise and concrete

  death and beans

  Then pale sun stumbles

  through the poles of

  iron to warm the horror

  of grey guard men.

 

  It's jail

  and bail

  then rails to run.

 

  Black night. The me

  myself of me sleeks

  in the folds and history

  of fear. To secret hold

  me deep and close my

  ears of lulls and clangs

  and memory of hate.

  Then night and sleep

  and dreams.

 

  It's jail

  and bail

  then rails to run.

 

  95

 

  Woman Me

 

  Your smile, delicate

  rumor of peace.

  Deafening revolutions nestle in the

  cleavage of

  your breasts

  Beggar-Kings and red-ringed Priests

  seek glory at the meeting

  of your thighs

  A grasp of Lions, A lap of Lambs.

  Your tears, jeweled

  strewn a diadem

  caused Pharaohs to ride

  deep in the bosom of the Nile.

  Southern spas lash fast

  their doors upon the night when

  winds of death blow down your name

  A bride of hurricanes,

  A swarm of summer wind.

  Your laughter, pealing tall

  above the bells of ruined cathedrals.

  Children reach between your teeth

  for charts to live their lives.

  A stomp of feet, A bevy of swift hands.

 

  96

 

  John J.

 

  His soul curdled

  standing milk

  childhood's right gone wrong.

 

  Plum blue, skin brown dusted

  eyes black shining,

  (His momma didn't want him)

 

  The round head slick silk

  Turn around, fall down curls

  Old ladies smelling of flour

  and talcum powder Cashmere Bouquet, said

  "This child is pretty enough to be a girl."

  (But his momma didn't want him)

 

  John J. grinned a "How can you resist me?"

  and danced to conjure lightning from

  a morning's summer sky.

  Gave the teacher an apple kiss

  (But his momma didn't want him)

 

  His nerves stretched two thousand miles

  found a flinging singing lady.

  breasting a bar

  calling straights on the dice,

  gin over ice,

  and the 3O's version of

  everybody in the

  pool.

  (She didn't want him.)

 

  98

 

  Southeast Arkanasia

 

  After Eli Whitney's gin

  brought to generations' end

  bartered flesh and broken bones

  Did it cleanse you of your sin

  Did you ponder?

 

  Now, when farmers bury wheat

  and the cow men dump the sweet

  butter down on Davy Jones

  Does it sanctify your street

  Do you wonder?

 

  Or is guilt your nightly mare

  bucking wake your evenings'

  share of the stilled repair of groans

&nbs
p; and the absence of despair

  over yonder?

 

  99

 

  Song for the Old Ones

 

  My Fathers sit on benches

  their flesh count every plank

  the slats leave dents of darkness

  deep in their withered flanks.

 

  They nod like broken candles

  all waxed and burnt profound,

  they say "It's understanding

  that makes the world go round."

 

  There in those pleated faces

  I see the auction block

  the chains and slavery's coffles

  the whip and lash and stock.

 

  My Fathers speak in voices

  that shred my fact and sound

  they say "It's our submission

  that makes the world go round."

 

  They used the finest cunning

  their naked wits and

  wiles the lowly Uncle Tomming

  and Aunt Jemimas' smiles.

 

  They've laughed to shield their crying

  then shuffled through their dreams

  and stepped 'n fetched a country

  to write the blues with screams.

 

  I understand their meaning

  it could and did derive

  from living on the edge of death

  They kept my race alive.

 

  101

 

  Child Dead in Old Seas

 

  Father,

  I wait for you in oceans

  tides washing pyramids high

  above my head.

  Waves, undulating

  corn rows around my

  black feet.

  The heavens shift and

  stars find holes set

  new in dark infirmity.

  My search goes on.

  Dainty shells on ash-like wrists

  of debutantes remember you.

  Childhood's absence has

  not stilled your

  voice. My ear

  listens. You whisper

  on the watery passage.

 

  Deep dirges moan

  from the

  belly of the sea

  and your song

  floats to me

  of lost savannahs

  green and

  drums. Of palm trees bending

  woman-like swaying

  grape-blue children