soul brothers from other mothers,
fellow city dwellers,
one up downtown
one down uptown,
fellow riders,
of the underground
of the by-NY-ways
of America
we met years ago ruminating on poetry,
late one night/early one morn,
just like us,
there is no difference,
call the hour what you want,
we spoke one language,
long long ago
in the early days here at HP
the I, lion of gray stumbled on me,
with a smiling, stunning midnight crosstown compliment,
kindred instant
he stole
my breath, with work that..
declaimed notions of
quiet unshouted artistry excellent
and a new appetite was birthed
in my head, in my bed
one night
the young black man-father and the
aging white-grandfather
so little in common,
but in the early morn,
we both haunt the hallways
of the city of poetry,
speaking the poetry of the city,
where blood is but
two colors
black and white,
like the poem words we share
that you are now eye-reading
and
in our torn,
but not yet shredded country,
we find ways to speak
I am long done, past being the past,
he is the dapper father of the future
and the river boundaries we share,
on different sides
are lines of connection
not demarcation
Nov 25, 2016
Nov 25, 2016 at 2:09 PM UTC
soul brothers from other mothers,
fellow city dwellers,
one up downtown
one down uptown,
fellow riders,
of the underground
of the by-NY-ways
of America
we met years ago ruminating on poetry,
late one night/early one morn,
just like us,
there is no difference,
call the hour what you want,
we spoke one language,
long long ago
in the early days here at HP
the I, lion of gray stumbled on me,
with a smiling, stunning midnight crosstown compliment,
kindred instant
he stole
my breath, with work that..
declaimed notions of
quiet unshouted artistry excellent
and a new appetite was birthed
in my head, in my bed
one night
the young black man-father and the
aging white-grandfather
so little in common,
but in the early morn,
we both haunt the hallways
of the city of poetry,
speaking the poetry of the city,
where blood is but
two colors
black and white,
like the poem words we share
that you are now eye-reading
and
in our torn,
but not yet shredded country,
we find ways to speak
I am long done, past being the past,
he is the dapper father of the future
and the river boundaries we share,
on different sides
are lines of connection
not demarcation
hellopoetry.com/poem/466149/i-am-unafraid-tonight/
Sept 2013
I am unafraid tonight
To write and sign my real name.
To like what I read which is almost everything here
For the sake, for the pain, for the unashamed, for just
Celebrating those who breathe life for the just
Trying.
I am unafraid tonight
To disclose that I live as an
Agonist
In a city that ghost taps on my windows,
( thank you Ilion gray for that),
When the quiet is pockmarked by so many crying the
Loudest tears.
I am unafraid tonight
To express my dissatisfaction with you.
I am unafraid tonight
To express the miracle of those across oceans,
And across town,
Welcoming me into their hearts and wonder
Where else do the wayfarers gather
I am I am
unafraid tonight
To curry your favor,
Despise your silence
Expose corners of me
That should be buried
Before my body later follows
I am unafraid tonight
To use or abuse punctuation
For their are spaces and ,
Between us that can and cannot be closed
But I am compelled to try to narrow the differences
For
I am unafraid tonight
Tomorrow, we shall see,
If the shale within can yet be fractured,
Brought to the surface
To be consumed,
Or the fractures spread
Destructing the whole.
But tonight,
I am unafraid.
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