Ishmael Reed was born in Chattanooga, Tennessee, in 1938 and raised in Buffalo, New York. He attended the State University of New York at Buffalo before moving to New York City, where he wrote his novel Mumbo Jumbo (1972), which won him international acclaim. Reed has since published consistently, establishing a formidable reputation as a poet, novelist, essayist, and general supporter of the arts.
Reed’s poetry, like his prose, uses parody and satire as vehicles for the investigation of African and African American folk experience as read against the grain of both popular culture and myth. Reed is the recipient of a MacArthur Award. He has taught at Harvard, Yale, and Dartmouth, and currently teaches at the University of California at Berkeley.
In Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man
I am outside of
history. i wish
i had some peanuts, it
looks hungry there in
its cage
i am inside of
history. its
hungrier than i
thot
If i had a nickel
For all the women who’ve
Rejected me in my life
I would be the head of the
World Bank with a flunkie
To hold my derby as i
Prepared to fly chartered
Jet to sign a check
Giving India a new lease
On life.
If i had a nickel for
All the women who’ve loved
Me in my life i would be
The World Bank’s assistant
Janitor and wouldn’t need
To wear a derby
All i’d think about would
Be going home
Even at 26, the hush when
you unexpectedly walked
into a theatre. One year
after The History of Cakewalk.
Desiring not to cause
a fuss, you sit alone
in the rear, watching a re
hearsal.
The actors are impressed. Wel
don Johnson, so super at des
cription, jots it all down.
disliking Whitman, Paul.
He lacked your style, like
your highcollared mandalaed
portrait in hayden’s
Kaleidoscope; unobserved,
Death, the uncouth critic
does a first draft on your
breath.
The devil must be forced to reveal any such physical evil (potions, charms, fetishes, etc.) still outside the body and these must be burned.
—Rituale Romanum, published 1947, endorsed by the coat-of-arms and introductory letter from Francis Cardinal Spellman
I am a cowboy in the boat of Ra,
sidewinders in the saloons of fools
bit my forehead like O
the untrustworthiness of Egyptologists
who do not know their trips. Who was that
dog-faced man? they asked, the day I rode
from town.
School marms with halitosis cannot see
the Nefertiti fake chipped on the run by slick
germans, the hawk behind Sonny Rollins’ head or
the ritual beard of his axe; a longhorn winding
its bells thru the Field of Reeds.
I am a cowboy in the boat of Ra. I bedded
down with Isis, Lady of the Boogaloo, dove
down deep in her horny, stuck up her Wells-Far-ago
in daring midday getaway. “Start grabbing the
blue,” I said from top of my double crown.
I am a cowboy in the boat of Ra. Ezzard Charles
of the Chisholm Trail. Took up the brass but they
blew off my thumb. Alchemist in ringmanship but a
sucker for the right cross.
I am a cowboy in the boat of Ra. Vamoosed from
the temple i bide my time. The price on the wanted
poster was a-going down, outlaw alias copped my stance
and moody greenhorns were making me dance; while my mouth’s
shooting iron got its chambers jammed.
I am a cowboy in the boat of Ra. Boning-up in
the ol West i bide my time. You should see
me pick off these tin cans whippersnappers. I
write the motown long plays for the comeback of
Osiris. Make them up when stars stare at sleeping
steer out here near the campfire. Women arrive
on the backs of goats and throw themselves on
my Bowie.
I am a cowboy in the boat of Ra. Lord of the lash,
the Loup Garou Kid. Half breed son of Pisces and
Aquarius. I hold the souls of men in my pot. I do
the dirty boogie with scorpions. I make the bulls
keep still and was the first swinger to grape the taste.
I am a cowboy in his boat. Pope Joan of the
Ptah Ra. C/mere a minute willya doll?
Be a good girl and
bring me my Buffalo horn of black powder
bring me my headdress of black feathers
bring me my bones of Ju-Ju snake
go get my eyelids of red paint.
Hand me my shadow
I’m going into town after Set
I am a cowboy in the boat of Ra
| look out Set | here i come Set |
| to get Set | to sunset Set |
| to unseat Set | to Set down Set |
usurper of the Royal couch
—imposter RAdio of Moses’ bush
party pooper O hater of dance
vampire outlaw of the milky way
If you are a revolutionary
Then I must be a reactionary
For if you stand for the future
I have no choice but to
Be with the past
Bring back suspenders!
Bring back Mom!
Homemade ice cream
Picnics in the park
Flagpole sitting
Straw hats
Rent parties
Corn liquor
The banjo
Georgia quilts
Krazy Kat
Restock
The syncopation of
Fletcher Henderson
The Kiplingesque lines
of James Weldon Johnson
Black Eagle
Mickey Mouse
The Bach Family
Even Mayor La Guardia
Who read the comics
Is more appealing than
Your version of
What Lies Ahead
In your world of
Tomorrow Humor
Will be locked up and
The key thrown away
The public address system
Will pound out headaches
All day
Everybody will wear the same
Funny caps
And the same funny jackets
Enchantment will be found
Expendable, charm, a
Luxury
Love and kisses
A crime against the state
Duke Ellington will be
Ordered to write more marches
“For the people,” naturally
If you are what’s coming
I must be what’s going
Make it by steamboat
I likes to take it real slow