The Poetry Marathon

Come, wildcat! Come, tiger!

Courageous and strong

They stand on hind legs

And join in the song 

Of cedar, doug fir, maple, and pine 

To the canopy, their roars rise higher

to a river of starlight above fragrant woods

they play and leap a dance ‘round the pyre

Lost in a trance and well rapt in dreaming

I hold out my hand to some startling phantasm

And see 

that it is as real as I am

Season of the Changing Winds

She has heard your heart before you

and understood what it has whispered

You will feel her on the breeze

That quickly comes big sister

Decisions that you’ve yet to make

when she is on her way

Will be escorted to the grave

The thrumming of the crimson king will say

She comes dancing righteous rage

to cut deceptions grown too tall

with beloved machetes gleaming

Her strike will heal it all

And with a word she clears the way

Stand back and watch the tearing winds descend

To let you know you cannot stay

She is the season on the changing winds

Just for today

let me be

a roaming purr hunting 

through a nest of buttery softness

incited only by the idea of being

bitten by something 

acidic and confectionary

to sweeten the petition

on my lips:

May words bloom flowers

May a honeyed tenor lull the afternoon

May Baldwin preach artistry

May Nina know how it feels to be free

May Billie’s summer fruit be forever familiar and sweet

May dreams come true

Let this silk robe

this porch-side paradise be all there is 

as unknown insects quiver in the noontide

Let the dense milky clouds break 

spilling golden yolk

beautifully over all of it

Just for today

Let me be

I saw

two beings

not of this world

stand on the peaks

of twin mountains glaring 

eyes fixed on each other and yelling

and bleating out in shrill voices

my human mind wondering

what could incite this 

wretched animus

in pure beings

in the valley

gathered

more

still

watching

these duels

I began to fear

that the world behind

ours was about to break until

then the two turned their little heads

to excitedly explain simply that

they were shouting in joy

because they were together

and it had just been play 

an ancient game

that can last

a long

time

dear curtis 

the scars you left

belong to me now

thank you for the gift

There they are again, bearing flowers

setting up beneath my window

asking for me to play

when whimsy will not move me

busy climbing my own mountain

and looking for something farther away

Where there is love, there is a road

The moment is too alive

it’s hot breath on my neck

and the air is thinner up here and

I am too dizzy with possibilities

to methodically entrap myself

In foolishness 

Where there is love, there is a road

For now, catalog your regrets

find some salve for your soul

I will be working in the night 

when my voice is strong

when we can be daring together

maybe then, we can birth new fire

Where there is love, there is a road

Recipe for Liberation

1. Oppression
2. Knowledge
3. Resilience
4. Compassionate Action
5. Justice

Be born 

Black and whole

see that you were never meant

to be a citizen*

Know that you are human

And whole and holy

Like every bright and shining thing on this planet

Living and inanimate

From this place of knowing

From this place of loving

Move

*see Dred Scott case – According to the US Constitution under citizen provisions, citizenship does not apply to freed slaves

I met you when I was just 18

You were an adult and cities 

shook when you spoke

And I could not see you 

In your perfect, round ‘fro

And your queer, astute blackness

I could not yet see myself

Reminding me that poetry is not a luxury

That my life is not a luxury

But something carved

Something owed 

to those who need me 

To speak their daring truth

Always already lying in wait

My little candle was too short to burn

You grabbed an awl and stabbed me

Pushed a new wick into my soft wax

Sang to me of burning 

You smelled of mangoes and sweet things

And smirked while you did it

You, dear Audre, ruined me

By showing me the truth of

Just how powerful and dangerous 

And afraid I should be of nothing

Last year was my first Poetry Marathon! It was a beautiful, frenzied, and challenging pursuit. It regrounded me in the act of writing and I look forward to this. May it be my touchstone onto which I can put down the words and feelings swirling in my mind, my guts, and my heart. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.

Starting Over

It could happen

that one day

you will be sitting

in the same place you’ve

sat for years

and realize

that the cushion on the chair

is misshapen

that you have buried yourself

in papers and prioritizing

You’ve grown so accustomed

to the tiny acts

of spontaneous combustion

and skittering roaches

that dance in front of you

that you snuff them out

with your bare hand

carrying on

Your dreams speak to you

only of deadlines

catastrophes and detailed correspondence

even this you may survive

ritually washing them away with

a deluge of coffee

first thing

Then it may come to pass

that you look into the harried face

of someone you love

and dropping your bucket

down deep within your heart

come up with dirt and dry shoots

and see that you

have become a drought