11’sit hasnt always been this way
ellington was not a street
robeson no mere memory
du bois walked up my father’s stairs
hummed some tune over me
sleeping in the company of men
who changed the world
it wasnt always like this
why ray barretto used to be a side-man
& dizzy’s hair was not always grey
i remember i was there
i listened in the company of men
politics as necessary as collards
music even in our dreams
our house was filled with all kinda folks
our windows were not cement or steel
our doors opened like our daddy’s arms
held us safe & loved
children growing in the company of men
old southern men & young slick ones
sonny til was not a boy
the clovers no rag-tag orphans
our crooners/ we belonged to a whole world
nkrumah was no foreigner
virgil aikens was not the only fighter
it hasnt always been this way
ellington was not a street
11’s
there is something caught in my throat
it is this place
my baby is sleeping
i check to see if she is alive
she does not know about gagging
she does not have this place/ in her throat
she doesnt know where we are
how it sears the membranes
eats the words right outta your mouth
leaves you suckin’ pollutants impotence
& failure/
a whole race of people cant do nothin’
at the roller disco.
7/8
there is something caught in my throat
it is hard & ugly/ i wd vomit it out
but the malignancy only grows toward
my gut/ & will not come out alive
my child is sleeping
she doesnt know where we are &
some man/ wants to kiss my thighs
roll his tongue around my navel
put his hands all up my ass
& this place is in my throat
5/4
there is nothing up my behind/ that
will get this place
out of my throat.
(i went to a dangerous place with a man who
was not there/ cuz he cant do nothin’ but
dial-a-joke or call for information)
i cd tell him a few things
there are dead children out here
there are desperate women out here
the sky is falling
& i am choking to death
cuz of where i am & who we are.
9/15
this is the twentieth century.
(do you think artra skin tone cream will solve the
colored complexion problem during a limited nuclear
engagement/ or
are you stocking up on porcelana?)
6/8
i have this thing in my throat
i cant put no more tongues in my mouth/
no cigarettes/ no tranquilizers/ i cant eat anything
i shoulda kept my damn champagne.
& asked the coke man for something so good/
outta my soul/ so i cd breathe
& check my daughter who is still sleeping
3/4
she thinks unicorns & magnolias
are things to put in her mouth
she dont know where she is yet
she dont know alla black kid’s gonna get
is a fist in her mouth or a white man
who says she’s arrogant/ cuz
she can look him in the eye/ cuz
she dont know where she is.
4/4
this thing is in my throat/
exploding just beneath my chin
i told this man my daughter didnt know
where she was/ where i keep my child
there are no white men with sexual thoughts
about infants/ she’ll know better next time
cuz she aint having this place
this gun happy/ watch niggers die/ fuck
each other to death in style/ when
they got ads sayin’ Come & See The Satin Latins/ but you gotta
dress as white gods & goddesses/
she aint here for that.
i am choking to death
(& some man watched me looking for him
in the rain & called me later to say
he saw me in the rain/ looking & couldnt
do anything about it cuz it was an
aesthetic thing)
this place is caught in my throat
i would tear it out & let you eat it
but i have a daughter who sleeps well/ & till
somebody comes to help me/ i’ll have to keep
swallowing this place/ like the rest of you
praying i wont have to hold
all my respect for human beings in my one closed fist
my one fistful of fight/ that we’ll choke
on this place/ & make it somewhere
we could live.
please
dont send no flowers.
i dont want no white wine.
i dont even want a roof over my head.
i want this place out of my throat
i want james brown to stop singing/ to get the hell out the way
& let a man come in
From a daughter’s geography