Like the Singing Coming off the Drums (2 page)

i am looking for

you to banish all sermons

a fine hail of touch.

i listen to this blood

breathing roses in my veins.

i grow with laughter.

these waves boisterous like

Che’s mountains smell of mania

howling in my veins.

your leonine eyes

squatting in Du Boisian blood.

violets and steel.

what is love

you asked

i took you

inside be

hind my eyes

and saw me.

legs wrapped around you

camera. action. tightshot.

this is not a rerun.

is there a fo rent

sign on my butt? you got no

territorial rights here.

my face is a scarred

reminder of your easy

comings and goings.

derelict with eyes

i settle in a quiet

carnival of waves.

the i in you the

you in me colliding in

one drop of semen

i taste your sweet salt come

your face a revelation

of bedtime fairy tales.

they smell like rust

these truants shouting magic

obscure men in heat.

a tint on the tongue

an echo in the fingers

i dust off your cough.

my teeth can write your

name in hieroglyphics paint

your sound graffiti-like.

i have carved your face

on my tongue and i speak you

in my off-key voice.

my eyes look

and i don’t

see me i

turn around

to find you.

when i die

i shall take

your smell

inside me.

i am a small piece

of yellow flesh taking shelter

like a leper.

his face like chiseled

china his eyes clotting

around rubber asses.

to be lifted in

smoke to be cast in iron

remembering the fire.

woman without heat

blankets herself with eyes

avoiding the cock’s walk.

a woman in seclusion

dreams of secreting milk.

it was nothing big

just no one to put suntan

lotion on my back.

the sea murmuring

dialect remember che

alive in my veins.

what i want

from you can

you give? what

i give to

you do you

want? hey? hey?

i hear your breath

in the faraway room

breathing castanets.

i smell you on my

skin ravishing my veins

i see your sweat running.

when i imagine

you i recall a river

flowing with eyes.

red orange breasts sweet

as chocolate touch my lips

wild bones up for sale

and i am flesh burnt

red charcoal black gift wrapped in

philadelphia blood.

this poem is for me

who could not speak your death

still i laugh and spin

quite often without

you i am at a loss for

the day.

but i am left with

flesh that hangs like yellow sails

hear my voice knocking.

my bones migrate in

red noise like pinched wings

they stream white ashes.

do you want ashes

where your hands used to be

other faces will come.

if i were an old

woman all my veins could hold

my laughter in check.

you are rock garden

austere in your loving

in exile from touch.

to surround yourself with

arms that will not hold you

to dream yourself home

where the road is dust

and dissolves in purple.

to worship

until i

become stone

to love

until i

become bone.

my bones hang to

gether like pinched dragonflies

shake loose my skin.

in this wet season

of children raining hands

we catch birds in flight.

when she came on the stage, this Ella

there were rumors of hurricanes and

over the rooftops of concert stages

the moon turned red in the sky,

it was Ella, Ella.

queen Ella had come

and words spilled out

leaving a trail of witnesses smiling

amen—amen—a woman—a woman.

she began

this three agèd woman

nightingales in her throat

and squads of horns came out

to greet her.

streams of violins and pianos

splashed their welcome

and our stained glass silences

our braided spaces

unraveled

opened up

said who’s that coming?

who’s that knocking at the door?

whose voice lingers on

that stage gone mad with

     
perdido. perdido. perdido
.

     
i lost my heart in toledooooooo
.

whose voice is climbing

up this morning chimney

smoking with life

carrying her basket of words

voice rescuing razor thin lyrics

from hopscotching dreams.

we first watched her navigating

an apollo stage amid high-stepping

yellow legs

we watched her watching us

shiny and pure woman

sugar and spice woman

her voice a nun’s whisper

her voice pouring out

guitar thickened blues,

her voice a faraway horn

questioning the wind,

and she became Ella,

first lady of tongues

Ella cruising our veins

voice walking on water

crossed in prayer,

she became holy

a thousand sermons

concealed in her bones

as she raised them in a

symphonic shudder

carrying our sighs into

her bloodstream.

this voice, chasing the

morning waves,

this Ella-tonian voice soft

like four layers of lace.

i remember waiting one nite for her appearance

audience impatient at the lateness

of musicians,

i remember it was april

and the flowers ran yellow

the sun downpoured yellow butterflies

and the day was yellow and silent

all of spring held us

in a single drop of blood.

when she appeared on stage

she became Nut arching over us

feet and hands placed on the stage

music flowing from her breasts

she swallowed the sun

sang confessions from the evening stars

made earth divulge her secrets

gave birth to skies in her song

remade the insistent air

and we became anointed found

inside her bop

Lady. Lady. Lady.

be good. be good

to me.

             to you.         to us all

cuz we just some lonesome babes

in the woods

hey lady. sweetellalady

Lady. Lady. Lady. be gooooood

ELLA ELLA ELLALADY

         
be good

                     
gooooood

                                 
goooooood …

see me through

your own eyes

i am here.

don’t look for me

in poems

i’m not there.

don’t look for me in

shadowy faces

i’m not there.

see me through

your own eyes

i am here.

once. when or with whom

i disappeared went

into hiding behind

my own skull

wasn’t seen for a decade or two

wasn’t seen for a decade or two.

now i am back

carrying my life in a small bag

now i am back

holding open my hands

holding open my hands.

see me through

your own smile

i am here.

see me through

your own smell

i am here.

see me through

your own eyes

i am here

i am here…

1.

we smell the

wounds hear the

red vowels

from your tongue.

the old ones

say we don’t

die we are

just passing

through into

another space.

i say they

have tried to

cut out your

heart and eat

it slowly.

we stretch our

ears to hear

your blood young

warrior.

2.

where are your fathers?

i see your mothers gathering

around your wounds folding

your arms shutting your

eyes wrapping you in prayer.

where are the fathers?

zootsuited eyes dancing

their days away.

what have they taught you

about power and peace.

where are the fathers

strutting their furlined

intellect bowing their

faces in the crotch

of academia and corporations

burying their tongues

in lunchtime pink

and black pussies

where are the fathers to teach

beyond stayinschooluse

acondomstrikewhilethe

iron’shotkeephopealive.

where have the fathers buried their voices?

3.

whose gold is carrying you home?

whose wealth is walking you through

this urban terror? whose greed

left you shipwrecked with golden

eyes staring in sudden death?

4.

you were in

a place hot

at the edge

of our minds.

you were in

a new world

a country

pushing with

blk corpses

distinct with

paleness and

it swallowed

you whole.

5.

i will not

burp you up.

i hold you

close to my heart.

How are you doin sistah?

how you doin girl?

But how you really doing

Sistah, Sistah, Sistah, i’m not

trying to interfere. But how

you makin out? Heard

you wuz sick

I know but how you really

doing really feeling really

getting along. i want to help

heard you wuz real sick

who goes there? who is this young man born lonely?