a shock in the heart,
a brief glimpse (of the artist's divine),
a long aching memory:
a smile,
an opportunity
missed.

It was such a long time ago
I was still  a young boy.
My father seemed permanent
hiding from me his fragile mortality.
I did not know we were so poor then.
Always feeling warm and safe near him.
The world was to become
more dangerous than usual.
Especially for blacks in the south.
Darkness hung from the sky
like spiders webs.
Noises that came in the dark
from bogymen and monsters in the closet
Kept my father from sleep that night
The white pointed hoods  of the
Klansmen on horseback passed by our home.
i felt the horses hooves vibrate.
I knew then he may not always have the power
to make the ghost go away.

I remember a few years later
in the jungles of Nam
Lay on my belly in the undergrowth
I heard each crackle of gunfire
the endless noise of the
nights jungle chatter.
My trigger finger on guard
sleepless and in absolute silence.
I learned then that my father’s lessons
were alive in me.
And that in such bad places
a boy needs his father with him.

You taste like love
As our swollen lips dance
Under the gleam of the moonlight

The sweetness of each kiss
The sweat sticking between our skins
The lust lingering in the air
But the love staying there

I held the palm of his hand
Upward to read the future.
Our future
I want to feel it filled with passions
and love that last forever.
Feelings that had
burned in me for the past
weeks we have been together.
You had all of me
unbridled
naked and wanton.
Doing things for you
that I could not
even tell my mother.
I could deny you nothing.
As my finger
traced our passion line.
it stopped abruptly.
it was so short
How long do we have?
I whispered
He looked seriously at me
We have to talk honey.

Sometimes
I write something that is good
Sometimes
I write something that really stinks
Still*
I write what is found in my thoughts