Whass hannin unc ?

How you doin' unc?
You doin' alright unc ?
that's good unc
I'm glad you good unc
What's that unc?
What you say unc ?
You need money .. ?
Na unc I can't help ya
I see you everyday on this block
Beggin for help
Not once have u ask me if I need anything
I can't give you money unc
I'd rather date a Waffle House waitress
211 Steal reserve breath or gin
On a good day
The bottle controls you unc
I've watch you deteriorate
Year after year on this block
You know the dope boys at dollar general don't **** with you
They tease and throw lil dollas at you man
And I don't like you hanging with Marty unc
You know he's off the "hair-ron"
That's not a good look
And I gave you a purple sweater
Last week unc
Do you still have it ?
Don't tell me you traded it ...
See unc
This is why you here
I hope you alright
This time next year

synchronicities happen all the time
for those with eyes to see

I watch, and wait, and wonder
pray to Let it Be!

think I'll drive to Wilmington
walk the campus, see the sea

do you think she read my poems?
on purpose or coincidentally?

The slam poet in cords, in denim,
rambles from neon beer haven
to flybuzz brothel, cracking quiet
jokes about soup to shiny junebugs
in the relentless moonlight.
One hundred dollars in thirty-five bills
slowly retreat from wallet
toward water-cut whiskey.
He’s got a chapbook widely
available at frozen yogurt shops
across the metro; he’s got a
tour in the works, tri-county,
every middle school from
Shawnee to Seminole; he’s
got a collection of ex-girlfriends,
made up almost entirely of wizened lesbians;
he’s got an MFA from UNC Wilmington,
and he shouts this more than speaks this
from his treacherous barstool to the sleepy bartender.
One of the girls, she takes him upstairs,
and to her he says, Your freckles—islands
in the sea of your milk-white skin.

The night passes, warehouses are razed,
and he watches the loft apartments emerge.
The food trucks come. He parks beside them,
typing poems made to order out of his trunk. The
money flows in, crumpled and sweaty and
in one-dollar denominations. The Old Fashions
transfigure into Old English. And in his pocket
thesaurus he looks for a word. It’s not vagrant,
nor vagabond. It’s not homeless, nor wayward.
He lies in the long shadow of a Midwestern sunset,
starved and shaking. Up from the blackened
city shrubs comes an indifferent breeze and
just as he thinks the word Pauper, he dies one
on the corner of 23rd and Western.

The scarf caused confusion
To his ignorant thoughts
Consumed by hatred and violence
He rang out eight shots
The media danced
In a pathetic flurry
Talking of "parking spots"
And "those Muslim students"
First things first
It was a hate crime
The killer had been to their house
More than one time
He condescended
He threatened
He talked down
Like bigots do
Yet this is something
The media tends to ignore
Let's focus on something less tense
Like a nice little parking spot
Next it must be said
That these were Americans
Just because they're not white
Doesn't mean they weren't born here
Yet let the media dance continues
Label them simply as "Muslims"
It's easy to forget
When it's just an "other"
So the story obscures
While these three young people are dead
Will Obama come to their defense
Or start another war instead

I tell her in a sense
Gollum is the hero
Of the Lord of the Rings.
Only he can destroy the Ring.

She tells me
It has to be Sam.
She has Tolkien tattoos
She knows the book better than me.

Chapel Hill is quite nice
I like Franklin Street
Chapel of the Cross
Young bands do there sing.

The Planetarium is solid
Vegetarian hot dogs
Jay and I play basketball
Better watch that UNC.

               Tar. Heels!

The idea of the Jesuits
More than the actual Jesuits
Catholic atheist
UNC

Franklin Street
Celtic Cross
If I contend
With Thee

            See.

So I would walk by the Chapel of the Cross
Pray for her family
Meditate on loss

Saw a sleeping deer one night
Antlers
Holy holy holy

I'm definitely UNC now
Pettigrew Hall
Basketball

If I have hope
Long term view
Horton Hears a Who

                  Tar. Heels!