laugh on beaches
of sand as
white as your bones
clean
on the foot of
long-ago waters.
Father.
I wait for you
wrapped in
the entrails of
whales. Your
blood now
blues
spume
over
the rippled
surface of our
grave.
103
Take Time Out
When you see them
on a freeway hitching rides
wearing beads
with packs by their sides
you ought to ask
What's all the
warring and the jarring
and the
killing and
the thrilling
all about.
Take Time Out.
When you see him
with a band around his head
and an army surplus bunk
that makes his bed. You'd
better ask What's
all the
beating and
the cheating and
the bleeding and
the needing
all about.
Take Time Out.
When you see her walking
Barefoot in the rain
And you know she's tripping
one a one-way train
you need to ask
what's all the
lying and the
dying and
the running and
the gunning
all about.
Take Time Out.
Use a minute
feel some sorrow
for the folks
who think tomorrow
is a place that they
can call up
on the phone.
Take a month
and show some kindness
for the folks
who thought that blindness
was an illness that
affected eyes alone.
If you know that youth
is dying on the run
and my daughter trades
dope stories with your son
we'd better see
what all our
fearing and our
jeering and our
crying and
our lying
brought about.
Take Time Out.
106
Elegy
for Harriet Tubman & Frederick Douglass
I lay down in my grave
and watch my children
grow
Proud blooms
above the weeds of death.
Their petals wave
and still nobody
knows the soft black
dirt that is my winding
sheet. The worms, my friends,
yet tunnel holes in
bones and through those
apertures I see the rain.
The sunfelt warmth
now jabs
within my space and
brings me roots of my
children born.
Their seeds must fall
and press beneath
this earth,
and find me where I
wait. My only need to
fertilize their birth.
I lay down in my grave
and watch my children
grow.
108
Reverses
How often must we
butt to head
Mind to ass
flank to nuts
cock to elbow
hip to toe
soul to shoulder
confront ourselves
in our past.
109
Little Girl Speakings
Ain't nobody better's my Daddy,
you keep yo' quauter
I ain't yo' daughter,
Ain't nobody better's my Daddy.
Ain't nothing prettier'n my dollie
heard what I said,
don't pat her head,
Ain't nothing prettier'n my dollie.
No lady cookinger than my Mommy
smell that pie,
see I don't lie
No lady cookinger than my Mommy.
110
This Winter Day
The kitchen is its readiness
white green and orange things
leak their blood selves in the soup.
Ritual sacrifice that snaps
an odor at my nose and starts
my tongue to march
slipping in the liquid of it drip.
The day, silver striped
in rain, is balked against
my window and the soup.
111
AND STILL I RISE
This book is dedicated to a
few of the Good Guys
You to laugh with
You to cry to
I can just about make
it over
JESSICA MITFORD
GERARD W. PURCELL
JAY ALLEN
PART ONE
Touch Me, Life,
Not Softly
A Kind of Love, Some Say
Is it true the ribs can tell
The kick of a beast from a
Lover's fist? The bruised
Bones recorded well
The sudden shock, the
Hard impact. Then swollen lids,
Sorry eyes, spoke not
Of lost romance, but hurt.
Hate often is confused. Its
Limits are in zones beyond itself. And
Sadists will not learn that
Love by nature, exacts a pain
Unequalled on the rack.
116
Country Lover
Funky blues
Keen toed shoes
High water pants
Saddy night dance
Red soda water
and anybody's daughter
117
Remembrance
for Paul
Your hands easy
weight, teasing the bees
hived in my hair, your smile at the
slope of my cheek. On the
occasion, you press
above me, glowing, spouting
readiness, mystery rapes
my reason.
When you have withdrawn
your self and the magic, when
only the smell of your love lingers between
my breasts, then, only
then, can I greedily consume
your presence.
118
Where We Belong, A Duet
In every town and village,
In every city square,
In crowded places
I searched the faces
Hoping to find
Someone to care.
I read mysterious meanings
In the distant stars,
Then I went to schoolrooms
And poolrooms
And half-lighted cocktail bars.
Braving dangers,
Going with strangers,
I don't even remember their names.
I was quick and breezy
And always easy
Playing romantic games.
I wined and dined a thousand exotic Joans and Janes
In dusty dance halls, at debutante balls,
On lonely country lanes.
I fell in love forever,
Twice every year or so.
I wooed them sweetly, was theirs completely,
But they always let me go.
Saying bye now, no need to try now,
You don't have the proper charms.
Too sentimental and much too gentle
I don't tremble in your arms.
Then you rose into my life
Like a promised sunrise.
Brightening my days with the light in your eyes.
I've never been so strong,
Now I'm where I belong.
120
Phenomenal Woman
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms,
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need for my care.
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
123
Men
When I was young, I used to
Watch behind the curtains
As men walked up and down
The street. Wino men, old men.
Young men sharp as mustard.
See them. Men are always
Going somewhere.
They knew I was there. Fifteen
Years old and starving for them.
Under my window, they would pause,
Their shoulders high like the
Breasts of a young girl,
Jacket tails slapping over
Those behinds,
Men.
One day they hold you in the
Palms of their hands, gentle, as if you
Were the last raw egg in the world. Then
They tighten up. Just a little. The
Soft into your defenselessness. A little
More. The hurt begins. Wrench out a
Smile that slides around the fear. When the
Air disappears,
Your mind pops, exploding fiercely, briefly,
Like the head of a kitchen match. Shattered.
It is your juice
That runs down their legs. Staining their shoes.
When the earth rights itself again,
And taste tries to return to the tongue,
Your body has slammed shut. Forever.
No keys exist.
Then the window draws full upon
Your mind. There, just beyond
The sway of curtains, men walk.
Knowing something.
Going someplace.
But this time, you will simply
Stand and watch.
Maybe.
125
Refusal
Beloved, In what other lives or lands
Have I known your lips
Your hands
Your laughter brave
Irreverent.
Those sweet excesses that
I do adore.
What surety is there
That we will meet again,
On other worlds some
Future time undated.
I defy my body's haste.
Without the Promise
Of one more sweet encounter
I will not deign to die.
126
Just for a Time
Oh how you used to walk
With that insouciant smile
I liked to hear you talk
And your style
Pleased me for a while.
You were my early love
New as a day breaking in Spring
You were the image of
Everything
That caused me to sing.
I don't like reminiscing
Nostalgia is not my fort�
I don't spill tears
On yesterday's years
But honesty makes me say,
You were a precious pearl
How I loved to see you shine,
You were the perfect girl.
And you were mine.
For a time.
For a time.
Just for a time.
127
PART TWO
Traveling
Junkie Monkey Reel
Shoulders sag,
The pull of weighted needling.
Arms drag, smacking wet in soft bone
Sockets.
Knees thaw,
Their familiar magic lost. Old bend and
Lock and bend forgot.
Teeth rock in fetid gums.
Eyes dart, die, then float in
Simian juice.
Brains reel,
Master charts of old ideas erased. The
Routes are gone beneath the tracks
Of desert caravans, pre-slavery
Years ago.
Dreams fail,
Unguarded fears on homeward streets
E
mbrace. Throttling in a dark revenge
Murder is its sweet romance.
How long will
This monkey dance?
130
The Lesson
I keep on dying again.
Veins collapse, opening like the
Small fists of sleeping
Children.
Memory of old tombs,
Rotting flesh and worms do
Not convince me against
The challenge. The years
And cold defeat live deep in
Lines along my face.
They dull my eyes, yet
I keep on dying,
Because I love to live.
131
California Prodigal
for David P-B
The eye follows, the land
Slips upward, creases down, forms
The gentle buttocks of a young
Giant. In the nestle,
Old adobe bricks, washed of
Whiteness, paled to umber,
Await another century.
Star Jasmine and old vines
Lay claim upon the ghosted land,
Then quiet pools whisper
Private childhood secrets.
Flush on inner cottage walls
Antiquitous faces,
Used to the gelid breath
Of old manors, glare disdainfully
Over breached time.
Around and through these
Cold phantasmatalities,
He walks, insisting
To the languid air,
Activity, music,
A generosity of graces.
His lupin fields spurn old
Deceit and agile poppies dance
In golden riot. Each day is
Fulminant, exploding brightly
Under the gaze of his exquisite
Sires, frozen in the famed paint
Of dead masters. Audacious
Sunlight casts defiance
At their feet.
133
My Arkansas
There is a deep brooding
in Arkansas.
Old crimes like moss pend
from poplar trees.
The sullen earth
is much too
red for comfort.
Sunrise seems to hesitate
and in that second
lose its
incandescent aim, and
dusk no more shadows
than the noon.
The past is brighter yet.
Old hates and
ante-bellum lace, are rent
but not discarded.
Today is yet to come
in Arkansas.
It writhes. It writhes in awful
waves of brooding.
134
Through the Inner City to the Suburbs
Secured by sooted windows
And amazement, it is
Delicious. Frosting filched
From a company cake.
People. Black and fast. Scattered
Watermelon seeds on
A summer street. Grinning in
ritual, sassy in pomp.
From a slow moving train
They are precious. Stolen gems
Unsaleable and dear. Those
Dusky undulations sweat of forest
Nights, damp dancing, the juicy
secrets of black thighs.
Images framed picture perfect
Do not move beyond the window
Siding
Strong delectation:
Dirty stories in changing rooms
Accompany the slap of wet towels and
Toilet seats.
Poli-talk of politician
Parents: "They need shoes and
cooze and a private
warm latrine. I had a colored
Mammy . . ."
The train, bound for green lawns
Double garages and sullen women
in dreaded homes, settles down
On its habit track.
Leaving
The dark figures dancing
And grinning. Still
Grinning.
136
Lady Luncheon Club
Her counsel was accepted: the times are grave.
A man was needed who would make them think,
And pay him from the petty cash account.
Our woman checked her golden watch,
The speaker has a plane to catch.
Dessert is served (and just in time).
The lecturer leans, thrusts forth his head
And neck and chest, arms akimbo
On the lectern top. He summons up
Sincerity as one might call a favored
Pet.
He understands the female rage,
Why Eve was lustful and
Delilah's
Grim deceit.
Our woman thinks:
(This cake is much too sweet.}
He sighs for youthful death
And rape at ten, and murder of
The soul stretched over long.
Our woman notes:
(This coffee's much too strong.)
The jobless streets of
Wine and wandering when
Mornings promise no bright relief.
She claps her hands and writes
Upon her pad: (Next time the
Speaker must be brief).
138
Momma Welfare Roll
Her arms semaphore fat triangles,
Pudgy hands bunched on layered hips
Where bones idle under years of fatback
And lima beans.
Her jowls shiver in accusation
Of crimes clich�d by
Repetition. Her children, strangers
To childhood's toys, play
Best the games of darkened doorways,
Rooftop tag, and know the slick feel of
Other people's property.
Too fat to whore,
Too mad to work,
Searches her dreams for the
Lucky sign and walks bare-handed
Into a den of bureaucrats for
Her portion.
"They don't give me welfare.
I take it."
139
The Singer Will Not Sing
for A.L.
A benison given. Unused,
No angels promised,
wings fluttering banal lies
behind their sexlessness. No
trumpets gloried
prophecies of fabled fame.
Yet harmonies waited in
her stiff throat. New notes
lay expectant on her
stilled tongue.
Her lips are ridged and
fleshy. Purpled night birds
snuggled to rest.
The mouth seamed, voiceless,
Sounds do not lift beyond
those reddened walls.
She came too late and lonely
to this place.
140
Willie
&nbs
p; Willie was a man without fame
Hardly anybody knew his name.
Crippled and limping, always walking lame,
He said, "I keep on movin'
Movin' just the same."
Solitude was the climate in his head
Emptiness was the partner in his bed,
Pain echoed in the steps of his tread,
He said, "I keep on followin'
Where the leaders led."
I may cry and I will die,
But my spirit is the soul of every spring,
Watch for me and you will see
That I'm present in the songs that children sing.
People called him "Uncle," "Boy" and "Hey,"
Said, "You can't live through this another day."
Then, they waited to hear what he would say.
He said, "I'm living
In the games that children play.
"You may enter my sleep, people my dreams,
Threaten my early morning's ease,
But I keep comin' followin' laughin' cryin',
Sure as a summer breeze.
"Wait for me, watch for me.
My spirit is the surge of open seas.
Look for me, ask for me,
I'm the rustle in the autumn leaves.
"When the sun rises
I am the time.
When the children sing
I am the Rhyme."
142
To Beat the Child Was Bad Enough
A young body, light
As winter sunshine, a new
Seed's bursting promise,
Hung from a string of silence
Above its future.
(The chance of choice was never known.]
Hunger, new hands, strange voices,
Its cry came natural, tearing.