For David Hammons
hairy stone
on white stool
on metal stand.
brooding about
lost air,
incandescent paint.
those tarpaulin
concealments.
mirrors dripping
dark celestial matter.
the fan in which
wind is still.
yellow table
where caravaggio
is beheaded.
old testament
of duchamp
made into
the history
of harlem.
beyond masks
floating on sea
new dream
breaks through
hands
of silent
enchanter.
here’s where
new african
genius is made,
changing the dream-
less lids
of duchamp
into the spring
of hammons.
blue time passing.
smaller
form,
bigger
conversation.
keep moving
it away
from what
it was.
from old
field,
new time.
music
in the stone.
alchemy
in the transcended
american air.
art is that book
in which history
of new forms
is written.
by the firedreams
of harlem.
throwing
the stone
into open sea
into sunrise
over brooklyn.