stop taking things
so seriously
I mean,
I'm seriously serious
don't be
seriously serious
about anything
beause when it all boils down to it
nobody will remember
if I forgot the C in because
in some dumb poem

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

Writer's block
does not exist
if you are a writer
then you can always write
and you always will write
writer's block
is just a convenient excuse
for when you are too lazy,
defeated,
preoccupied,
sad,
and you know what?
when all of that is coming down on you
all you need to do
is take a deep breath
shut up
and write

A rabbit walks into a brothel
after surveying the place
from every ***** corner
to every strangely clean counter top
he noticed
that there was no women in the place
only children
confused,
He asked the manager about this
to which he replied
"Silly Rabbit
Tricks are for kids"

Sleeping in throws,
Wrestling in pillows.
This baby is convulsing,
Stuck homeless in cotton rows.

She jiggles tickles,
Crisp, she is fickle.
She tingles the conniption.
Nerves, in axon missiles.

Binky slips, the eyelid's 'clipse,
Her wrist is the pith,
Of nights caption "Mist".

Sleeping babies.
Calm nights hard winds,
As the spring commences,
Graduation of twigs,
To sprigs of life,
To growing thighs,
Cough up the milieu.

Minutia.

The growing immortality.