At his little hippie college
he shows me a *** that looks like a wall
in a Rwandan museum, all skulls, he

learned clay in the Rift Valley
boarding school, on a kick wheel,
still his favorite

My brother is a potter
multicolor plaid shorts
little goatee

Banjo
Japan dreams
girl from Mozambique.

When we were little in Loiyangalani
we made tiny huts out of obsidian
while our Rhodesian Ridgebacks

sniffed the ground for cobras
sand vipers
scorpions

while twenty camels
walked by in a row
followed by tiny replicas

My brother is a potter, says to me
'When I am doing this I am
doing what I was created to do'

He makes a green and blue
candleholder for me which he calls
'The Islands,' light escapes through many holes

which look like sea turtles
pockets of air and
an atomic bomb just gone off

we turn off the lights
in my room in the hood,
snorkel in candlelight

My brother gives me
Rumi, incense, peace flags
We walk the silent night

smoke a clove
look at stars
like we used to do in the African riverbeds

She taught us to talk
you see,
we were fearful.
unwilling to make that walk,
pride chaining us in our chairs...
insides churning,
slaves,
and we are the captors.
so we pray:
for courage to stand
and the humility
to not notice the thoughts they aim at us
because awareness of self is a vital element
of you and me.

let us free our minds
to hell with the fear
lift our heads up and out of the pit--
apathy.
speak:
up and out
for and against
black and white
we have it in us
to spit so hard and so far
that every oppressor gets a heart hit
so hard
by words so full
of substance
that even they will feel
yes, they will feel it,
compassion.

You used to laugh (and
    pretend my spiny sweet-gum
       words would cringe at the very
  brush of a lifetime), but
                     our seasons are changing
                (everything is all at once an
                  unwavering green), adopting
                      breadth of iceberg proportions
  
    (we dance around forever.)

A pure vibration
All through out my sensation
I ******* climaxed

You try to kiss me
I would rather you not
That's overrated

Just let me touch you
In inappropriate ways
Because you like it

Remove all my clothes
But make sure the lights are off
It's best in the dark

After a nice date
We can talk to the blue moon
To unlock our lust

We talked about religion and after life, and Jesus Christ
..All over death
He told me of his beliefs, and how they came to be
...All over death
Talking little about work, or the body being at rest
[All this too, over death]
I conceded that I’d think a little more about
All the possibilities, but retain my doubt,
[As we set the ****** features and drained the blood out]
Conversation had turned deep, leaving me room to think

All over death