Rest in the key of "Promises" (dedicated to Barack Obama)

silence
slips inside
the tuba

quiet casts a brassy glow
upon the shadowy saxophone

amended
twins,
the french horn and clarinet

accompanied by
the hollow throat
of acoustic breath

and the night belts out what magic is left behind, and returns the breath
to its proper rest

the prayer without words of
empty eyes
full of the moment

Can't you hear it?
the baited still of
a willing will

fog falling freshly
as white on
keys
into early morning's ears

sweet as a lover's mouth
dancing with praise?

and then;

as with in the beginning
was the word
and the word was with
the director
speaking in sounds that created space and time
a universal pause, followed by a lifted voice
in place of a hand

and everything that has breath stands still

-- harmony in the
key of f

maybe?

humm
maybe you are
my
marcus
thwarted by an int eruption called "black history"
fussing at me to get home on time
delighted by witty banter
frustrated by my stubborn ways
that refuse to m......m.....move.

maybe that's why I am so scared of you--

inviting me into intellectual adventures
without the fuss
working to build a life beyond the ruin of this

whispering under your breath
what a dang fool I am
praying that I'll hear.

Kryptonite

he is the kind that will make pretty babies
and ugly tears

a hulking super man
who still longs for his mama's breasts
after a day of misadventures in manhood

his smile crawls inside spaces that it shouldn't
scurrying inside the empty spaces
between thoughts and dreams
late at night
when I don't want to be bothered

he is
unrepentantly popular
even
in the most unflattering light

like an undone cookie
smelling rich
but tasting poor

and yet,
despite my better judgement

I fight myself from tasting the batter

Chicago, 2008

Like a sweet fragrance
It rises;
Scorched streets yield transformed trees
Oasis of human hope
Grown in a desert
Bees swoon to the flower of
its harvest height

The implausible garden
Broke the hard earth
drank dark days
And came up spring--

Deliverance dances in the streets
Burning again with the hope we thought had failed us
After being auctioned off at the very steps of the great columns
Of hope itself

We can--

Open tightly held fists
after holding on so long to expose

palm
Sunday

Given way
To hot prayer, salient desire,
historic hallelujah--

hope unhinged
the earth.

the aftershocks are vivid:
heard beyond the grave, savored beyond the sky
Given beyond the gift
Makeshift tambourines herald
broken silver links
a roaring applause
filled with five generations of prayers
prevailed

The Communion of Saints

"This is our chance to answer that call. This is our moment.

"This is our time, to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth, that, out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope. And where we are met with cynicism and doubts and those who tell us that we can't, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people: Yes, we can.

it is passover in

the heartland

the fruit of faith

the hungry hope

is sweet

communion

of saints

the forgiveness of sins

the ressurrection of the body

a brown body

ripe with flight

of falling freedom

in the wind

of change

decidedly different

The mightly hand of God has

watered the harvest

refreshing forty years of faithlessness

there is not an apology

sweeter to the bruised rib

and the broken limb

than

equality

take the bread to your lips

and partake in the manna

feast in communion

of the storm that is passing over

to do you justice (In memory of Officer Brad Moody)

I tried to write words
that could do you justice
but they have failed me

my arsenal is empty
the syllables
the punctuation
the vocabulary lists
all frozen in perpetuity

Simple characters won't do.

I tried to write you words,
words that could explain
could hug, and heal
but with lackluster
they've been arraigned
tried
and acquitted.

Simple characters won't do.

all the dazzling metaphors
falling flakes of new snow
and the sizzling similes
searing like hot hopes
the lovely languid images of lighter days
of a man whom the uniform did not wear
he wore the uniform

I could write about your kind smile
that darkly funny sense of humor
that twinkled in your eyes
that brazenly defiant attitude
that refused to be convinced
by the unconvincing
if only because
you were your own man.

I could write about your
kind heart
the many days that you gave that heart
to others in need of one
the sweetness of a kind act
giving up a day off in the sunshine so that
kids in the Barretts might catch a ray


I could write about your conviction
your passion for
the dreams you carried so tenderly
like a small frog in the pocket of a child
who just discovered its greenness
the pages and pages of notes
taken copiously
as you envisioned Iron Tracks
free of "C' hats, full of basketball games
and old men talking longingly
shooting the breeze about days long gone

But these words, wouldn't do you justice.

Simple characters never do.

What can kind of character can make a word like:

Father, faithful?
or
friend, fierce?
Or
officer, exceptional?
Or
brother, bonded?

What kind of a word can
warm the hearts of so many just at the mere
smile?

And what kind of word is the word brother, really?
Seven short, unceremonious letters
used to describe a man
of simple heart,
but great character.

shoes

Tied to the left
Ans strappy
Two toned
And slim boned
Makes the brothers long for home
Makes them shout for joy
these tiny delecacies
massage the earth in circled
“c’s”
Step front step back
Side to side
They whisper warrior
In the click clack
Of the swayed back
Go , sister, go
See sister run
See sister command
Look out, here they come
Wayward ribbons
A perfect witness
Ask the question
Who are you?
And the story better be good.
Cauze I got no time for
Malevolent melodrama
Don’t you see my back zipper
Packing in my power tight?
Don’t you see
The patent on my leather induced adrenaline flight?
Don’t you see the way I hit the arch at its height
Letting em know whatever I come with
I’m promoting
a doggone tough fight?

I’ve walked over run away lovers
And hate filled horrors
And dissapated dreams
And broken hearted blame
To crush the heal
Of my own pain

I can be long stemmed
Or thin rimmed
Wedged or silhoutted
Archetpe arodite
But when my hops shasay
Mama don’t play

I’m blue, magenta, black
Aquamarine
I wrap myself around your weary (soled) dream
To adorn almond delight toes
With hues of mango
I am the dancer you can never catch
But always follow
As I give you too tough blues


Cauze no matter where her feet carry her
Everywoman has a pair
Of fighting shoes.

How’s My Driving?

(Written in January 2008)


How are you driving into your new year?

Have you given yourself license to do all the things that you said
You would not, could not do?
Have you made resolutions anew
Or are you still scratching waiting on a clue?


How are you driving into your new year?

Do you imagine yourself rolling in that big bodied Benz that wanted so badly
That you woke up with a four door leather interior taste on your lips
Until you realized it was just your pillow
Are you so focused on the glits and glamour of
Everybody and lodie dottie are doing that
You fail to notice that your license says your vision ain’t 20/20

Are you starving for your soul in the land of plenty?

Hey, How are you driving into your New year?

Have you come up on the bumper of a Sunday driver called Patience
Mad because he won’t get out your way?
Psheww… Was that you I saw you flying down 580
Changing lanes faster than Baskin Robins changes the flavor of the month
riding on rims of sold our dreams just ‘tending to be crunk?

Hey, How are you driving into your New year?

Tell me darling
Are old acquaintances riding with you in the front seat?
Hollering out the passenger side
Telling doubt, fear, jealousy, bitterness and hate they can ride in YO’ ride?

Honey, Who is driving you into your new year?

Did you forget that those signals like
STOP
SLOW DOWN
YEILD
WATCH ROAD
MERGE
ONCOMING TRAFFIC

And my favorite, ONE WAY ONLY?

Did you take time from your frenzied automotive flight
To pump your brakes
And hold on tight
As you reached that red light

And a road called the cross?

Did your bring your insurance before you counted the cost
That was paid in full
With a manufacturers guarantee

Or are you with that other insurer
That’s telling you “PUT YOUR HANDS WHERE MY EYES CAN SEE?”

Tell me, how are you driving into your new year?

Are you running on empty
Full of the cheap gas
Of life lived too fast

Are you looking for the living waters
Holyghost octane, spectacular mileage
That will trump your gold gas card any day
And check this out the best thing about it
Is after you pump, you don’t pay?

Who is driving you into your new year?
Look around, go speed racer are all coasts clear?
For you to lean over,
Unfasten your safety belt
Switch seats

And make room for the master.

Is it Well (With My Soul)

Are you alright, baby? Your soul looks sick.

Is it well?
Is it well?
Is it well?
Well is it?

This is the story of how to get free.
Not got free, but bought free
At retail price

This is a story of stumbling through
Transformation with deliverance on your shoulder, sin on your back, and grace at your side

This is a story about having to walk
With humility because pride won’t letchu ride

Is it, well?

This is the story of how a soul got foreclosed upon and sold on the auction block at the court house steps but mercy stepped in and said
Not Guilty!

This is the story of how you slow danced with Regret on Saturday night, while claiming to be looking for Love, and cheating on self respect
Trying to get some re-re-re…reconciliation!

Is it well?

(Song)

This is the story of how inadequacy keeps calling in those summer winds
And emptiness keeps encouraging you to fill yourself with more of it to keep from starving
And abuse smiles and gives you a little vinegar for your thirst, but patience steps in and does her perfect work, turning all your battle scars into testimonies.

Are you well?

This is the story of
The you that you could be should be
Stuck in the land of improbability
With no phone, and no cents to make a call for help.

This is the story about how you forgot about the calls and started up at the wall cause you never felt so small
Until you heard the Holy Lamb issue a gentle call
Saying, “I’m here.”

Yes this is the story of how we “made it over the rainbow”
While wading in the “some how some ways”
And trudging through the “Get theres”
While looking over the mountain of the men that we believed we are
Wishing on stars made of
Backlight in hallowed
Hallways of dreams we wade
Thinking that because were “intelligently designed”
That we’re somehow self made



Are you grateful every day you wake up knowing you’re saved!
To know that you could be plot number 129 million and one of the 129 million people who didn’t see this day?


A confluence of soul ties
Had been binding you to your entanglement
So thick that a simple comb just wouldn’t do
But someone stroked your hair and pulled the knots until it was soft, flowing and new


You see God doesn’t have to do anything
To be everything
His faithfulness bright as the morning stars
But it outlasts each and every one of them

No explanation needed
No assembly required
No repayments found

I love him because when I looked up,
He looked down

This is the story of how
And it is well, It is well, with my soul.

if all you have is love....

bend gracefully
at the knee
a bowed beauty

giving to everyone but herself
how does she live

on love
in a cavernous glass house
where love is a window
yet the earth is so
shady?