Stuff I Write About

What is it about this time of tumult and great beauty? Time for shedding in preparation for renewal I love Langston I read his poems every night before bed Poems won’t come to me They often find me too tired to capture thought I ought to get my black butt up But I been tired Tired like all day in the cornfields tired Who am I kidding? I ain’t neva been in no cornfields But I do know that I am tired Tired like Black woman tired of all your lame ass excuses tired Yes, tired like that

Paradise is WPFW; Dinah Shore and Billie Holiday Paradise is pumpkin spiced candles; Roobios red chai tea with carnation milk and pure cane sugar Paradise is the rings of smoke from incense curling over your shoulder Tapping gently just to say, “Hey, remember me – relax, breathe...deep” Paradise is writing in warm clothes on a cold night Paradise is everything in my soul is alright Don’t know tomorrow Can’t recapture the day But confident The Lord will make a way A clap A shout “Amen!” And a “That’s alright” Paradise is the tone from piano keys Touching my tear ducks Paradise is smiling after a day of hell Behold, the kingdom of God is at hand.

Tender young flowering blossoms With shoots of remarkable beauty Race to the top Only to be cut down by yardsmen Eager for wilt of tender bodies Hands of musty soil grip hard Leave with dead flowers in tow One has learned to live And so has the other But none has learned to live one for the other One has learned to love And so has the other But none has learned to love one for the other

And who is it And who is it not Black apricot Streaming through black tresses In dresses In heals In linens Where are they They are in me They are me