As the blue moon climbs over the Potomac River,
I lay my tired body down next to the planted field.
Momma tells me that I’ll turn 13 tomorrow; my birthday wish….to be free
Like brail, the scars on my back speak to the humility in my life.
My dog Jip lays beside me and with a warm tongue conveys everything will be fine.

It’s the early fall here at Georgetown University
My name is Cornelius, Cornelius Hawkins and I write these words so you know my plight.
Here with me are my father, mother and 2 yr old sister.
We toil the field from dawn to dusk…the salt herring and cornmeal give us strength.
And my hands are forever clinging to this rosary and I pray God will hear my prayers.

I can’t begin to tell how afraid I am each and every day.
I try not to dwell on our strife and struggles, but day dream of downright happiness.
My family and our ancestors before us have been confined to slavery for 200 years.
Momma always says “There is no slavery, just ignorance”.
I hold her words near and dear to my heart and I never give up hope for a better life.

I'll be dreaming tonight..
Yes I'll be dreamin' tonight
Of a Trico hatch that's goes off like a New England snow storm
A Loaded five weight by my side, with plenty of backing to spare.

I'll be dreaming tonight
Of a Montana highway leading me back home,
Home to the Firehole bridge, a purple sky ablaze
Salmo Trutta, my brother from below

I'll be dreaming of Casting tight loops below Kilpatrick Pond,
I catch a glimpse of Ernest smiling on the bank
The Hemingway legacy lives on at Silver Creek
As we wait for the  green drake hatches to fill the air!

I'll be dreaming tonight of days gone by,
When a young boy caught his first German brown.
Neversink, you  beckon me to the days long ago
I feel the force of the river pull me from a deep sleep.

And I awaken to the thought of......Tight Lines!

If
          You are always sorry
When
          You think back

And
          You only worry
When
          You think ahead

Then
          You will only find
Your
          Peace of mind

After
          You are dead
WIZDUMBs BY JA 414

My 72

Most mornings when I arise,
The thoughts of you run through my mind.
I stare at your high school picture wrapped in Crimson and blue
You've left me and dad, left us to soon at 42.

And now I'm left to look through all those old photos
To get a glimpse of the way you were in sober days,
You know the one, with you & Auntie in the snow on Albany Avenue
Smiling as if your world never stopped, as if you had no idea....

As I stood watching them lay your body to rest...
My feet no longer touched the ground, weightless, I reached towards the sky
I cried out for you to take me to your new home.  
The wind moaned, the lighting kissed the sky and the rain caressed my face.

Here I lay on the rain soaked ground pitying myself
How, Mom ....do I begin to handle this void in my life.
And I realize that the misery and affliction
Must not consume my mind and soul...

Out of silence the blue bird warbles a message of calmness.
The breeze wraps its arms tightly around me as if to say,
Young man, "I'm here to dry your tears and give you warmth."

I wish for nothing more than to hear you say... I love you.

It was blue

Mingling shades of blue

Swerving round the setting sun

Stray green herbs

Matching the life lines on their wrists

He said, "Take care..."

And then smiled

He smiled the way the sun whispered goodnight to the earth

With a promise that it won't be long till morning

The shore played the protagonist

In a beautiful lie

Bowing to the curtains of sand

Their shuffling feet

The applause from the only interested audience

And with one final nod

Her hands ached to go home

Home to the notebook stashed in the lower shelf of her dresser

To where the pen was eagerly waiting

The pages excited to be ravaged by ink

Because there, between the lines

Lied the secrets she spilt into the night

She'd already written the entry in her mind

But then she crossed the street

Waiting for the bus

Where the real world was colored in smoke

The streets crowded with foreign faces

Cats rummaging around trash cans

Balconies spilling the secrets of every house

Busy lives shouldering past her

Folk music covering the atoms of the air angrily

There was the sickest shade of grey

The one that hinted of lime yellow

That spoke of distractions and misery

That smelt of melancholy

It almost reminded her of cigarettes

The way she needed to be away from it

She held her head low between her shoulders

Hiding away from the few familiar faces

His image begging to be the last thing she sees

The dreamy waves begging to be the last thing she sees

The melodic breeze begging to be the last thing she feels

Before they make it down to the pages safely

Racality* / reɪsˈæləti/ - *An awakening when one realizes that regardless of outward appearance or inward ideology, unconditional love for mankind conquers narrow-mindedness.

Regardless of one’s fit, form or function,
We must be mindful that judgment is a natural instinct.
It’s time to pause and think about the words before we speak them.

K.E. Carman/ 2016