i step in silence, countenance
loud, they assert some aberration. identity in place, often
assailed/challenged, it’s hard to be a black man. what opposes the gameplan?
why success is a threat—the future outlined in chalk—most skipping arrogance, settling
on excellence. some at or made hands—to switchboards—a trillion dialing into
blackness; like more rain, purple skies, royal hips and legs and fingerprints;
aside an acacia tree, or city sequoias, at a nod to see the inner lieutenant—most
definite to assign a legacy, in great indifference, with too many screaming— “The
pain matters.” centuries at it, differences are genetic, too much luggage to
board the skies. we leave it and raid humanity, the heart wailing in its chakra.
i step in silence, water baptized,
fretting holiness—on a good day—glowing in what we deny existence! trying to
arrive at bat, needing to connect dots, the checkerboard is speckled—the cows
have been affected.
just doing the orientation,
changing the ironic elements, feeling at times—a whit self-defeated.
