Silly children...
play with mirrors
as if we were doors,
portals to other times.
Theirs are night-games,
indulged in dark
imagination.
As if my hand-held cousin,
carried upstairs
walking backwards
could show the faces
of husbands or death.

Really.
We show only what we are shown.

Of course, in our years,
we have seen husbands
and deaths.

The braver child
will call upon us
in necromatic glee,
invoking the shade
of Mary Worth
to appear through us.
A cosmic crap-shoot,
depending much upon
Mary's mood
that particular night.
Three times
they call her name
before me,
hope they see her,
pray they don't.

I have been shown many
a Mary's death...

many a child's, too.

yo, dawg
I remember this one time
we was straight chillin
I fell out and was sleepin hard, dawg
my homeboys was actin the fool
smoking that tea
wildin out
like they was straight mad
party was of the hiz-ook
then this little blond ***** rolled in
takin bout whitey
o’ some ****
I was tore up, dawg
sleepin in a muthafukkin teapot
this ** flappin her gums
bout this and that
like we give two *****
homeboy, we was jess lookin to rip it up
out of the blue this trick
says ‘cat’
dawg, I jumped up
running across the table
moving furniture
up in this here muthafukka
my homeboys lit out after me
hollerin like big dawgs
one a’ those fools
we like to call the Hatter
went to rubbin a bit o’ jam on my nose
a little on the gums
you how we do
anaway
that **** did the trick
and I fell out
hard like a muthafukka
passed. the ****. out.
hit the bricks and skid my chin
you feel me?
bout that time this little trip rolls in
talking about being late n’ ****
that Hatter straight destroyed his rolex
send homeboy to cryin like *****
dawg, that **** was the craziest party
we still talk about the madass ****
…..never knew what happened to the blond
chick was a trip ---

Most times, it's hearing silence in the space,
Echoes in between my Spirit's breaths.
Distinctive voice reminds me of my place
In torn cacophony of Planet Earth.
True to form, I listen; do not hear
All messages I'm given in the day.
Teachers crossing paths both far and near
Each answering my questions in their way.
Perhaps a quiet moment will suffice,
Remembering that Spirit will provide
A peace too great to go unrecognized.
Yes, words are thought or whispered, an aside;
Earnest quest for guidance to the sky
Remembering to listen for replies.