Stuff I Write About

Pieces of a dream fall out like lint and loose change from pockets with dark holes Dark holes which is where I been lately at least it feel that way to me for what seems like an eternity I am trying to shake loose all those things which threaten to bind me my destiny abounds in me I fight on when there is no more room to run

There are evening poems like Langston and Petrarch and Morning poems like Nikki Giovanni and Song of Songs Poems for every occasion For whatever ails you Take two and call me in the morning

And so it comes To this The sun beating Down The people indifferently passing And we ... out Of breath In a pool of salty Sweat Laughing Happy In each other’s Trust That once again We gentled the stone All the way down And will now Push it back up But we will wait Until the sun sets We will wait Until the stores Close We will wait While they put their garbage bags In the streets We will wait Until the dogs and rats Sniff their choices We will wait Until the street cleaners Push their brooms And the women offer their wares We will hope The men are kind We are Sisyphus We write the poems We paint the portraits We sculpt the statues We quilt the blankets We set the tables We make the beds We wipe the tears We rock the anger We hold on to tomorrow We push the rock up And we gently bring it down We were promised Only a gift of light You keep me From being Lonely