The sun is new sun after the cloud
Of a recent sorrow touched a belly.
Sorrow confuses like the rain moth
Embracing death on windowpanes.
Morning sounds are confusing too
When they are indistinct mumbles
About gods living in clouds eating
Confused prayers to keep us fixed.
We are an aleatory bricolage
An amoeba with its false feet
Tentative in its fetal darkness
Where new shadows formed.
Shadows are real in a garage.
It is where we are assembled
And take on shape,new idea,
A bricolage cobbled together.
We are not all original stuff.
Awaking is moving away from bliss
Sleeping on dreams of not awaking.
City drags itself awake on subways,
An old black poet’s poetry awaking.
Here are no subways to awake a sun
Just cattle filled roads swishing tails
Late night drivers bleary with sleep,
An old brown poet’s poem awaking.
(Referring to Maya Angelow’s poem Awaking in New York)
Grasshopper lands on my computer
On its arthritic stick legs, jelly inside
Leaking a bit below wobbling knees.
It is typing a sonnet on my keyboard
A leak makes fourteen lines so hard.
Keystrokes are hard outside of grass.
We replace kneecaps a surgeon says
Sadly ,we do not have old raindrops.
(Taking off on one of the stories from The Arthritic Grass-hopper by Gisel Prassinos)
We are uncles with our lights low
And no one goes there after dusk
After our old nights are remnants.
Home is littered with plastic cups,
The remnants of many old nights.
Old lights lie low and dim-witted.
Old words are twilight’s remnants.
Old uncles lie low and dim-witted.
They turn remnants of old poems.
We hold still as if we hold an oil lamp
Through a darkness of the unfamiliar.
Lamp sits before us with warm bread
That brightens up a dark inner palate
And its yellow light colors the dance-
A girl dance swirls in yellow moment.
The drum tries to catch the liquid girl
To be lamp-lit pearl- drop under leaf
Night sheds in the winter of our time,
Leaf slowly falling its yellow moment.
An ocean in its frilled waves
Teases all girls in their frills.
Girl steps back in sea fright
As sea loves her in her frills.
Another girl rides rickshaw
To school ,like a wave of sea.
Girl’s back rides a school bag
Like the wave of teasing sea.
Death teases girl in rickshaw.
Teasing her life and laughter.