how lonely sits
the city says
lamentations
guess this mouse has what you americans call post traumatic
stress disorder,
think of it more like
a path for the
eyes.
one where eyes are finally forced away
from the works of hands
by the knock knock
knocking on
heaven's door,
everybody's saying,
hodi hapa? something's
wrong if no one's answering; tonight.
my neighbor whose
name is eej (for
real) came to
the hut with
his friend.
i said do you
have siblings
he said
i did
oh
said i
you are living
my worst nightmare
one thing about an african
childhood, they say fatalism, you say you
would think about death too
and who knows
what you'd
look
like
tonight by the bagel van i said bunkle
i gotta problem
what's your problem said he
well i think i'm not wearing enough colors
no said he you're missing a bright splash in the orange red family
who knows what we all look like
inside the infinite space
of our souls
wonder if
blue means purity or
green means beauty
or red means strength
or love
or love
well
we all look
pretty much
the same asleep
hatred doesn't look
different in one
eye or another
but why does
it have to
be in the
eyes of
anyone
this mouse has
been asking
since
child
hood
why
why
why.
the cruelty
but
yet
still
and
for
ever
(you always did care for me yeah
you always did share with me yeah)
you always make me laugh, still
the book of jonah makes me
think of sea legs
and just everything,
you know all
the palm trees
huts, nonvoices
of our lives
the blessings rain down
an ocean sunsetting
on an Ocean sky.
siblings
be strong the
good kind of
dangerous
is
the
fire
mapinduzi
just be
around
(this is real
hope: in the
searing agony
of human
existence,
the fire of
your love
is burning)
psalm 107