POEMS

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  • Brown Muffin Morning (Rainbow Black)

    Cold as depths of earth

    Deep blue skies above

    In between, hazy dreams

    Wherein I watched my father mix-bath with strangers of many faces. 

    Even I received a Medal of Honor, for being the only one watching

    1971, on the wall,

    From whence a line is drawn 

    What, and for what?

     

    Here, I am clutching a long plastic mug

    of black coffee, made from beans 

    From a certain far-flung place –

    From whence a line was drawn 

    Slow down. Breathe. No panic

    Don't let life take the music out of you

    It's a rhythm, you will need more funk than prayers. 

     

    Brown muffin morning it is

    Again in the middle of nowhere, where 

    This tropical Self does me no good. 

    I must seek another, or perhaps shed a skin

    For underneath my black is a rainbow. 

    I am rainbow black, and son of my father.