Celia looked at her reflection
In the back of the spoon;
Her face was blown outward
As if captured on some balloon.
It almost made her laugh;
The memory of it;
How she and her sister Sassy
Would do that as kids,
Before the dark days,
Before her death in a bath.
That drowning, that sad death.
Sassy’s husband had beaten her
Black and blue and green
And she’d hide herself away
So as not to be seen.
But she’d seen her,
Seen the bruises
Like smudged tattoos,
The closed eyes,
The swollen lips,
The hardly able to talk words
Pushing through the mouth
To say: he says he loves me still.
Celia stared at her reflection,
The way her own mouth was distorted,
Her lips blown up, her eyes enlarged,
Out of proportion.
She almost laughed,
But something about Sassy’s sad death
Made her stifle any guffaw
That may have broken free
From her distorted reflected jaw.
There was the time she’d seen her
******* for bed when she stayed
Because Sassy’s husband (the weird freak)
Was off on business, some big deal,
Needing to be pulled off,
And she saw the black and blueness
With tinges of green
Along her naked flesh,
The buttocks welted
Where he had belted.
Sassy had said nothing,
Had not noticed Celia looking,
Had not thought it unusual
To be unclothed as such
Away from other’s peering eyes.
Now Sassy was dead;
Found in the bath;
Drugged out, wrists slit,
Having drowned recorded.
But he had driven her over the edge;
He had bullied and beaten
Like some spoilt cruel child
An unwanted toy.
Celia turned the spoon over
And put it down.
No more desire to laugh,
Just fond memories of Sassy
Before her death in the bath.

Exhausted, Celia laid in bed.
Staring at a cockroach trapped on a spider web.
She laid in bed, motionless.
Thinking of what she had done two minutes ago.
In a matter of seconds she had chocked and mutilated him.
She had cut his hands, cut his throat and his manly *****.
In her mind he kept insulting and belittling her,
but she had been stronger.
She had defended herself.
He could no longer take advantage of her.
Celia saw how the cockroach gasped for her last breath
while the spider started to rip her apart starting with her heart.

But as always when the sun peeked through the window,
Celia saw him there,
sleeping beside her.
A dormant lion, who would soon come for his prey.

All the way to Zion,
She hung from the
Tip of my tongue.

She was the right song,
At the right time. That’s
What I hoped, at least.

I loved her accompaniment;
The kind that was as fine
As a San Francisco sunset.

She invited me to eat dinner,
And I said, “Yes, of course.”
Because I had never been
To her place before.

She said she lived somewhere
Off the North Juda Line.
We agreed to meet
After work, at half past seven,
Outside of the Market
Street subway stop.

I knew that I didn’t have
Much time to waste.
She was the type to leave
If I was late.

Sure enough,
By the end of the day,
I got delayed. I was still
In the office at eight.
I called her twice,
But she didn’t wait.

I tried to catch her
At the next stop,
But my feet were slow -
So there I was again, caught.

I knew the perfect song
To sing to Celia,
I was just late
On the chorus.

Free to amble because of
My missed commitment,
I walked further down
The Embarcadero,
Until I heard some Cuban dudes
Playing a familiar old song
In the SBC Park, just below Pier 38.

I recognized it immediately -
Such a beautifully simple melody:

Yo soy un hombre sincero, de donde crece la palma
Yo soy un hombre sincero, de donde crece la palma
Y antes de morir yo quiero cantar mis versos del alma.

The funny thing is, for a while,
I forgot about everything.
I sat on that bench, and listened.
The song had that old wisdom to it,
Something that you can’t really explain,
You just feel.

Eventually, I decided to
Walk out onto the pier.
I got to thinking
About Celia again,
How mad she must have been -
Send in the clowns.

And just as I
Started to sink -
You know, really feel
Bad for myself,
Someone tapped me
On the shoulder.

I turned to face
The unsuspecting person,
To let them know that
It was the wrong day,
And I was the wrong guy
To be asking for directions…

And there she was,
Right in front of me.
“Take my hand,”
Celia quietly said,
As the lights on the pier
Danced to the sweetness
Of her voice in my ears.
I laughed. She laughed.
And there we were -
A little bit lost together.

If the quick spirits in your eye
Now languish, and anon must die;
If every sweet, and every grace
Must fly from that forsaken face;
  Then, Celia, let us reap our joys,
  Ere Time such goodly fruit destroys.

Or if that golden fleece must grow
Forever, free from agèd snow;
If those bright suns must know no shade,
Nor your fresh beauties ever fade;
  Then fear not, Celia, to bestow
  What, still being gathered, still must grow.

Thus, either Time his sickle brings
In vain, or else in vain his wings.

I was foretold, your rebell ***,
  Nor love, nor pitty knew;
And with what scorn you use to vex
  Poor hearts that humbly sue;
Yet I believ’d, to crown our pain,
  Could we the fortress win,
The happy Lover sure should gain
  A Paradise within:
I thought Loves plagues, like Dragons sate,
Only to fright us at the gate.

But I did enter, and enjoy
  What happy Lovers prove;
For I could kiss, and sport, and toy,
  And taste those sweets of love;
Which had they but a lasting state,
  Or if in Celia’s brest
The force of love might not abate,
  Jove were too mean a guest.
But now her breach of faith, farre more
Afflicts, than did her scorn before.

Hard fate! to have been once possest,
  As victor, of a heart
Atchiev’d with labour, and unrest,
  And then forc’d to depart.
If the stout Foe will not resigne
  When I besiege a Town,
I lose, but what was never mine;
  But he that is cast down
From enjoy’d beauty, feels a woe,
Only deposed Kings can know.

He is her first love,
the love which makes
her want to open her
arms to the early day,

hear bird song, wash
in the cold water the
maid brings, breaking
the ice, her hand scooping

up the coldness to her
face, and the o yes this
is it, feel, in her. Before
him there were only dull

mornings, icy ablutions,
boring birds singing, and
her father lecturing at
the morning table about

the horses or the birds
for the shoot or how well
his dogs hunt. This first love,
this exciting explosion,

this wanting to run through
the fields undressed and
sing loudly, this new born,
fresh as a lamb kind of love,

this tingling through the veins
and nerves feeling, this is
what the poet’s name love,
their words ticking off the

virtues, their voices calling
across shires, hills and seas.
She wants him to come,
wants his arms about her,

his lips on hers, she thinks of
him each moment of her day,
senses him in each touch her
body feels, in each smell of air.

She wants him there. Before him
there was just the routine of daily
visits to the poor of the parish
with he mother’s gossip, picking

of flowers, the dull witted wit of
her tiresome brothers, before this
first love she almost drowned in
the daily drudge, but now she feels

each second’s tick, each moment’s
*****, the over feel of air and breath
and him maybe being there to watch
her dress (unseen of course) and

all the little things that first love brings.
The maid helps her dress, buttons
up at the back, brushes the hair, o
o she wishes it were the first love

there unbuttoning her dress and
making her neatly done hair in a mess.

Know, Celia, since thou art so proud,
  ’Twas I that gave thee thy renown.
Thou hadst in the forgotten crowd
  Of common beauties lived unknown
Had not my verse extolled thy name,
And with it imped the wings of Fame.

That killing power is none of thine;
  I gave it to thy voice and eyes.
Thy sweets, thy graces, all are mine;
  Thou art my star, shin’st in my skies:
Then dart not from thy borrowed sphere
Lightning on him that fixed thee there.

Tempt me with such affrights no more,
  Lest what I made I uncreate.
Let fools thy mystic form adore,
  I know thee in thy mortal state.
Wise poets, that wrapped truth in tales,
Knew her themselves through all her veils.

in quiet rooms where shadows hide,
celia whispers, soft inside.
a secret kept, a dream unspoken,
a song of strings, unbroken.

she waits in corners, dark and deep,
where memories fade, and shadows sleep.
eyes of silence, heart of mist,
tracing what’s been missed.

radiating
street lamps
ionized the
indigo blue
haze charging
the night air

sparking the
city’s eclectic
currents coursing
through the
abandoned raceways
and empty streets

energizing the
phantoms of
the city’s
restive spirits

the ghosts of past
Great Falls Fests came
jitterbugging back
to life

transparent
veils lifting
and falling
with it, a voltaic
indigo blue
billowed out of the
abandoned stadium
pouring smoking
oboe moans
into the cavity
of the great gorge

“I was one of the last
to perform at
Hinchliffe Stadium”
Duke proclaimed
with his usual  
distinguished air

“it was also one of my
last concerts”, he added
with a tinge of
sorrow in his voice

“the band was rockin
the Art Deco tiles,
splintering and shattering
into bits of earth toned graffiti
the last vestiges of
a bygone Jazz Age
dissolving into the
disco fizz of the
Seventies”

the indigo mood
clamoured off
the rocks absorbing
the sonorous waves
like a stand of
hallowed
sequoias

“I’m trying to
remember what
my last tune
was that night.

was it Caravan?
or a Prelude to
a Kiss?  No no
too mellow
we always ended
on an upper
a real crowd pleaser,
I recall the boys swung
a medley before the grand finale
that medley included
Mood Indigo, Caravan,
Sophisticated Ladies,
Prelude to a Kiss.
We opened with Kinda Dukish
Rockin and Rhythm
we closed with
Satin Doll
Yes I’m quite sure
I waltzed them
off the floor
that night with
Satin Doll”

Duke ran his
fingers through
his processed hair.
He grabbed my shoulders
raised his baggy eyelids
And looked me straight
In the eye

“Yes, we followed
Tito Puente, he killed it
we upped our game
He was just starting out
But at this time Silk City
was going Caribe
Juan Tizol was
out of his mind that night,
I thought him and Babs
we're gunna jump ship
and join the Salsa Circus
Yeah El Rex and Celia Cruz
were that good

El Rex had the place
jumpin and jivin
it was a glimpse of the old days
livin in the here and now
just like the old days
I couldn't compete with that
so I waltzed them off
the floor with Satin Doll
a little cheek to cheek swoon
maybe some guys got lucky that night
and maybe some girls fell in love
Yeah Paterson was changing,
the ***** Leagues long gone
the last ****** Auto Races
crossed the final finish line weeks before
when the raceways in the stadium
replaced the raceways to the factories
we knew it was coming to an end
and with it all the good paying
jobs, whatta shame
just like me and the boys
watching El Rex
the Duke was dethroned by a King
just like Silk City
we had our day in the sun too
a Satin Doll Sun
Those were some good times,
sometimes”

Duke scratched
his head,
and he looked down into
the swirling noise
of the Great Falls
“on a night like this
the mood indigo
takes you into the
darkest hues of blues”

fragment from
Silk City PIT 6:
The Great Falls

Duke Ellington, Coleman Hawkins
Mood Indigo




Oakland
3/30/13
jbm

(FRAGMENT WORK IN PROGRESS)

Part 6 of extended poem Silk City PIT.  PIT is an acronym for Point In Time.  PIT is an annual census American cities conduct to count the homeless population.  Hope and Labor is the city motto of Paterson NJ, nick named The Silk City.

He that loves a rosy cheek,
      Or a coral lip admires,
Or from star-like eyes doth seek
      Fuel to maintain his fires;
As old Time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.

But a smooth and steadfast mind,
      Gentle thoughts and calm desires,
Hearts with equal love combin’d,
      Kindle never-dying fires.
Where these are not, I despise
Lovely cheeks, or lips, or eyes.

No tears, Celia, now shall win
      My resolv’d heart to return;
I have search’d thy soul within,
      And find nought, but pride, and scorn;
I have learn’d thy arts, and now
Can disdain as much as thou.
Some power, in my revenge, convey
That love to her I cast away.

"Just once before I die
I want to climb up on a tenement sky
Dream my lungs out till I cry
Then scatter my ashes through the Lower East Side."

Where babies cry and hands collide
Whether givin dap or throwin die.
We are the first in a line of many
Who made something out of nothing: a dream and a penny.
Like a phoenix, they rose from the dust of defeat
And brought the rhythm of their home back to the streets.
The scraps of culture that America ignored
Became the boat of what got us ashore.
Jazz from Harlem mixed with Rhythm and Blues
Became acquainted with the drums that Tito Puente used
To create a music that refused to die
Salsa: established on the Lower East Side.
So many legends and have come and gone until today
But we will always remember “Aguanile.”
The music that played through the day and night
Can still be heard on the Lower East Side.
Lavoe and Puente, Palmeri and Colón
Celia Crúz made her voyage alone.
As a platinum selling Latina in a white man’s world
She kept singing with her head up and her tongue curled.

The same blocks that gave us beats to abide
Also have a darker side.
With gunshots and sirens- like Piñero said:
“The streets are hot and feed off those who bleed to death.”
We took our own lives when violence was brought upon us
Too many children grew up fatherless.
If walls could talk they would tell you
Of all the pain that they’ve been though.
Boys and men who were smashed against the pavement
Ones that screamed and others that will never breathe again.
Hot like ice and cold like fire
Signs that read “gunman for hire.”
Read between the lines of a “Help Wanted” sign
Outside a legit business with a ringleader inside.
Kids stopping by on a daily basis
Lookin for work as a foot soldier in case this
Thing that they call school don’t get them nowhere
Cause remember- they’re not from around here.
But they makin their way on the Lower East Side
Where all eyes on you- can’t even the rats hide.
Cause its survival of the fittest just see another day
And in order to get in good you gotta play the game.
Your mothers and aunts are worried to death
But you gotta eat- so forget about the stress.
You gotta play the game whether you like it or not,
But there’s gotta be a breaking point where this all needs to STOP.

If you go down to Third street, between avenues B and C
People walk to a different beat.
A place that’s an escape from the world outside
Where fingers snap and words collide.
It was in the year 1975
Where you could see a generation strive
To find their souls on the city skyline
Amidst the smallest of confines.
Tongues spit metaphors and air filled the lungs
Of the poets that paved the way for many more to come.
The stage that was built by (Miguel) Piñero and (*****) Rivas
Was blessed decades later by Lemon Andersen and Beau Sia.
The place filled to capacity, bodies filling every space
Not an empty seat in the house, yet even more people found their place
Posted up against the wall all eyes fixed forward
Because when a poet raised their hands, no eyes were lowered.
They were free to clap, snap fingers and call out
In accordance with what a poet spoke about.
The Utopia that I speak of exists until this day
We call it the NuyoRican Poets Cafe.
Where all are welcome bring yourself and your freedom
A dream and a wish and the desire to achieve them.

Let us be the first in a line of many
To remember out culture and give it to our babies.
The English and the Spanish
As much as their tongues can manage.
Let's not be so quick to go against one another
Because in order to survive, we all need each other.
I want to live in a world where we all from the block
And we gotta support each other whether we like it or not.

"So please when I die
Don't take me far away
Keep me nearby
take my ashes and scatter them thru out
the Lower East Side."


In memory of Piñero, and all the pioneers of the time...

Nos jeunesses avec Monsieur Snoopy


C'était le noble fils d'Isky
Yorkshire au caractère vif
Betty l'avait eu en cadeau
De Ginou, comme un joyau.
Dans ses jeunes ans, vêtu
d'un pelage noir et boucle.
Il semblait une variété
d'écureuil plutôt qu'un chien
Mais sa passion était de jouer
Et de mordiller aussi .
Mais ce chiot était déjà
Un jeune combattant téméraire.


Venu avec nous a Lille
Il apprit a courir les pigeons du Beffroi.
L'été prenant le cargo avec nous pour la Corse,
Il débarquait aphone ayant aboyé toute la nuit.
Dans l'île, ce chien anglais se portait comme un charme,
et se jouait des ronces du maquis.
Il dégotta même une ruche sauvage d'abeilles près du ruisseau le "Fiume".


Mais de caractère dominant
Et n'ayant pas appris les mœurs de la meurtre,
Il refusa la soumission au dogue de "Zeze"; "Fakir",
qui le prit dans sa gueule et le fit tournoyer sous la camionnette du boucher ambulant.
Il en fut quitte pour quelques jours de peur panique,
Puis ne manqua point de frétiller de sa queue pour saluer le chef de meute selon la coutume des chiens.


Rentrés a Lille, je vis un film de Claude Lelouch,
Ou un restaurateur avait entraîné un coq a saluer les clients,
Aussitôt, je m'efforcais de renouveler l'exploit avec Snoopy juche sur mon épaule ou l'appui tête de notre Fiat.
Mais ce chien indépendant et fougueux ne voulut rien entendre.
Las et envolées les idées de montreur de chien savant.


Le chien Snoopy n'aimait guère l'eau, ni douce, ni salée,
mais une fois plonge dans les flots,
de ses pattes il se faisait des nageoires pour rejoindre sa maîtresse se baignant dans les flots.


Âgé  de seize ans, la grande vieillesse venue,
dont le malheur veut qu'elle marque le cadrant de cinq fractions de vies d'hommes,
Une année fatidique le désormais vieux chien fut gardée à  Luchon par mes parents pour lui éviter le chenil du cargo,
Aussi un soir attablés au restaurant "La Stonda" nous apprimes l'affligeante nouvelle,
Le vivace Snoopy n'était plus, Je nous revois encore les yeux baignés de larmes comme si nous avions perdu, la meilleure partie de notre jeune âge.
Car il fut le premier chien de notre âge adulte,
Notre fille Celia mêla ses pleurs aux nôtres,
et cette nouvelle pourtant bien prévisible apporta une touche de chagrin à ce mois d'août d'ordinaire, si plein de Lumière et de soleil.

Nous avions perdu notre premier chien et notre grand ami de ceux qui ne vous trahit jamais.
Snoopy fut pour nous notre premier amour de chien.
Solide cabot au poil argenté, aux oreilles en pointe dressées au moindre bruit.
Il accompagna nos jeunes années de couple, alors sans enfant,
et enjolivait notre vie par sa fantaisie et ses facéties.
Joli descendant des chiens de mineur du Yorkshire, il sut nous donner pour toute notre vie l'amour des chiens anglais.

Paul Arrighi

And she likes to ride
on the swing and rise
higher and higher and
see beyond the hedges

and see houses and trees
and people passing
and wonders if it’s always
so and as she rises higher

her hands gripping the
ropes of the swing she
feels her stomach turn
and turn and remembers

when her mother’s new
boyfriend pushed her
on the swing a few years
ago how he would say

how high you want to
go Celia? and he’d push
her higher and higher
and she called out I’m

frightened slow me down
but he just stood there
laughing and waving his
hands and gawking at her

legs as she went up and
down and she tried to slow
herself down but he just
pushed her high again and

she said I’ll tell on you
pushing me too high but
he just shook his head
and pushed her instead

and then once he felt he
wanted to he pulled on
her ropes and slowed her
down and put his hands

on her thighs and squeezed
and held her there for a
moment or two staring
into her eyes and said that

wasn’t too bad was it?
And he grinned and she
wanted to say something
to her mother but never did

and when she got home
she said nothing and just
went to her room and stared
out at the park with its swings

and slides and the innocent
children laughing and smiling
and full of joy unaware as
she was then and knows now

how touches and suggestions  
can end the innocence of
childhood in a single moment
once and for all and to no good.

Ms. Minerva’s
Helpful Hints and a guide through life



Ms.Minerva…
Born September 1885….died September 1976, 91 years old.  She didn’t marry until she was 45 and had her first child that year.  Getting married at 45 was something that didn’t happen to often for women back then, especially a black woman.  Then low and behold 5 years later: what the doctor called her second tumor, she had her second and last child at 50, a baby girl and her change of life in one shot.
        But her true joy came along 17 years later at 67….only being a mother for 22 years; she was now a grandmother……that’s where I came in!  My mother’s oldest child and Ms Minerva, my grandmother’s baby boy……..Mama!!

    It is important to tell you that from here on, the stories will be in no certain order….they’re as I remember them.  As I found understanding, THE LIGHT, as she called it.
MS. MINERVA’S HELPFUL HINTS…
2
[Song – Higher & Higher]
This song became her theme song for a while:  Love, knowledge taking you higher!!  Ms Minerva (Mama) the first career women I knew.  In 1967, she heard this song and realizes that this song talked about what kept her going…LOVE!  Love took her higher and higher and it was love that she shared………with me!

MM: “Boy, you might not understand what I’m telling you, but remember it remember all you hear, see, taste and feel….. because understanding come with time and when you ready for it!”
Knowledge……. Love………Understanding……Enlightenment take us higher.

How?  How did a black woman in south Louisiana go out, have a career, a family with little education but wise beyond her years.  Oh, when I say career woman I mean a cook, maid, nanny but mama said,

MM: “those jobs keep us going and I was one of the best, always be the best at what you do…greatness comes in all sizes!”


3
Another thing I should say is: some of the stories that I will share have not been documented as fact.  They were hers that she shared with me…..
Like one night watching TV…….

MM: Lord, Lord, Lord…
CC:  What’s the matter Mama?
MM:  Did I ever tell you about when I worked at an all boys’ school in New (N’Orleans) Orleans.  I was the one who stayed with the boys at
night.  Well, there was one lil’ boy that was always
sneaking out of bed going outside playing his horn.
I would take it from him and beat his ****.  The day
they give it back to him, that night he would sneak outside
again.  Beating his **** didn’t help, he just kept sneaking out
no matter how long we kept the horn.
CC: What happen to him mama?
She pointed to the TV and said:
MM:  There he is……


4
Louie Armstrong singing HELLO DOLLY raise in an all boys home in New (N’Orleans) Orleans….was this true……I don’t know.  Did and do I believe it….YES!
This was also one of the times I receive one of ….Ms Minerva’s Helpful Hint:

MM: You can be anything you want if you believe
and have the passion for it! Believe in
your passion because you are your passion
and you must always believe in you….yourself!  
No matter what others say or think….it’s you who
must believe!

Believing, she was a big believer. she believed in people and the good in them.


5
MM:  Always see the positive in people, in everything thing.
No matter how negative someone or something is
there is always an ounce of positive…..go for the positive,
it will always carry you through and shine light

Everywhere, positive light.

I often wonder how someone so positive in my life, who taught me to look up and be strong could be so down on her daughter , my mother.  When I was sent to fly with the eagles she was told to stay on earth.  This was one of my confusions, I knew there was a lot of love there between them but so hard for them to share……Understanding comes with time.

When I was 7 years old I was sent to the kitchen to cook for a family of 5.  It wasn’t what you think.  At 72 years old Ms. Minerva wasn’t seeing things to well. So, instead of saying; Old woman you need to stop, you’re losing it.  She was told; “It’s time for Curtis to start learning how to cook, he needs to know how to take care of himself.”  So, what I thought was a prison

6

sentence became some of the most wonderful and important times of my life……
I was allow to be a child and do the things children do but at 5, maybe 5:30 I went to spend my hour or two with Ms. Minerva, my best friend…..learning the secrets of the kitchen and of life.

MM:  you have got to know how to take care of yourself.
I won’t be here to take care of you but I’ll always
be watching over you, I'll always be with you!

Like a lot of things, I didn’t get it then, but I do now:

One day, I was tormenting my grandfather….Oh I haven’t and won’t say much about him because that is a whole other story, but I’ll share this much with you:
  His name was Tower Jackson Sr. better known as Bud (papa to me).  He was born in December of 1880 and died in 1969, it’s funny but I don’t remember the month or day, it just kinda went a way.  Anyway, I think he
7
was married once before Ms Minerva…that’s what he said.  He had a daughter…Aunt Traci….who was old enough to be my mother’s mother.  Remember THE COLOR PURPLE he was kinda like Mister and Old Mister but not as bad.  But Ms Minerva wasn’t Ms Celia…she was more like Sophia. Papa loved me unconditionally and he was my playmate but I don’t think he realized that point but I had a great time.

Back to one of the days I was tormenting him…he was finish with me and he got up and came after me…he was between 75 or 80.  I starting running and he came after me.  We lived in a house that was once a duplex, I ran out of his room, which was in the middle of the house, took a left and headed for the kitchen and the back door, that was open to freedom.  I got to the kitchen and I could see the back door standing open and waiting for me….  But out the corner of my eye, I see Ms. Minerva washing dishes.  I turn right, then a sharp left and I’m almost to the door…..just then an arm reach out and push the door close…..I can’t stop……I hit the door and fall to the floor.  Just before papa grab me to start the whipen’ and mama looks down at me and say:      

8
MM: Boy, didn’t I tell you to stop running in my house and don’t every run away!”
Well, it was all over.  I got a whipin’…one I would never forget.  Papa felt so guilty he took me for Ice Cream almost everyday for a week.
But later that day…….Ms Minerva’s helpful hint:

MM:  Baby the reason I don’t want you running, especially when
you’re scared, is because you’ll be running for the rest
of your life.  When you run out of fear you’re only
running from yourself.  No matter what people think
or what’s happening stand and face it…Don’t Run!
Believe in yourself and you can beat it.

I didn’t really understand what she was saying, but when I’m scared I hear her voice and I stand (sometime that old confusion comes in with my mother) but most time I stand, face it and deal with it.  Growing, Changing and changing and growing!  Stronger everyday.


9
I remember when I was 12, it was a Sat and a beautiful day and Ms. Minerva called me into the house.  It wasn’t time for cooking and it was Sat but I went:
MM:  I need to talk to you.
CC: Mama can we talk later I’m playing.
MM:   No, I want and need to talk to you NOW!. let’s cook.

I knew that was it.  When she says: “let’s cook” the battle was over, she felt it was important.  We got to the kitchen and started pulling stuff out …
MM: You’re special
CC:  No, no don’t start this again.
MM:  No, no, no you’re special! You’re a *****, a punk, *****…

There were a few other choice colorful names…Then she said:

MM:  Now that someone that loves you, truly loves you have
called you these names they can’t hurt you.  You’re gay
and it’s not something I would chose for you but it’s

10
who you are.  But it makes you more special and wonderful because you are different. You are my special, but it’s only apart of you and your life, not your whole life or the whole you.  You can chose to practice or not.  You are made up of many parts, many yous…..Be Proud of who you are! Never hang your head, You will be a great man…even greater because you know who and what you are.

That day, I knew what love was and what love is.  Unconditional Love.  I was Proud to be who and what I was and who and what I was to become.  Proud of Who I Am and What I Am.

Music was always heard in my house, all kind, mama believed in   experiencing everything in everyway.
MM:  You need to know about it all, don’t let ignorance
be your down fall.  That’s what’s wrong with most folk,
they just don’t know and don’t want to learn.  Education
is freedom; knowledge is light….don’t ever stand
in the dark, you’ll only hurt yourself.

11

There were a few things I didn’t learn or just didn’t remember.  Remember I said; she didn’t like running in her house.  Well, when I was a kid I was a runner, a mover, didn’t want to get caught…so I just kept moving.   Well, one day my mother was going to whip my ****, I don’t even know why this time but she grab my arm and I just started running around her and every time I heard the belt hit…I would yell.  I think I might have gotten hit once or twice but my mother’s legs, oh boy, but she kept going and so did I.
Then I heard the voice…….
MM:  Sister, what are you doing?
Sister, that’s what everyone called my mother, even me.  she sat down in her chair
MM: Bring that boy over here and let me show you
how to do that.

The she put me on my knees and stuck my head between her knees and turn her feet in and locked her knees.  My ears were hurting but not compared to how my **** was going to feel.  Then I heard……

12
MM:  Now, see you got wide-open ****!

Then the whipping began and it was one I’d never forget and the whole time she just kept talking to my mother…..I can hear her and feel the belt now..

MM:  Girl you need to get out of the way and stop making
it so hard.  Just breathe and believe, it’ll come together….
Now, go put something on your legs.

It took me awhile to start breathing but I did and I remembered what she said; “Just breathe and believe.” and when I don’t I just remember that belt on my ****.
Whenever people hear this story, they’re shocked, confuse…well, this was a different time and Ms. Minerva was a different kind of woman.  A wipen' wasn’t something that happen everyday, I never ended up in the hospital and I was shower with love….. a different day – a different time.
              


13
Around that time I remember I went through my Ultra Black stage.  I had some problem at school and I hated all white people and I was very
vocal about it.  Mama, just listen and I went on and on and on….and somewhere in there she hit me and it shocked and stopped me in my tracks.  Then she looked at me and said:
MM:  Who spit on you?  Who’s bus did you sit on the back of?  
Who’s kitchen or yard did you work in?  Nothing, nothing has happen to you that bad to hate…..Don’t hate it takes to much energy.  Remember the positive.  Some white people are ignorance and you have to educate them.  You can’t be just one thing in America you have to know about all……people and things.  There will come a time in America when people will be more than just one race, we have and are mixing it up.  LEARN…we are all connected, we are all one, and we are all God!














  14

One other thing about my grandfather (Bud)…he had a scar over his right eye and I always asked him about it and he would say, “Go ask mama.”  But being a kid I would forget and then ask him again.  Well one day I remembered to ask Mama how he got the scar.  

MM: Who told you to ask me?

CC:  Papa……..

She started laughing and told me to sit down……

MM: One day papa came home and had decided he was going to beat me.  Someone had told him that I would take it because I should feel lucky he married an old woman.  So, he came in and hit me!  I had the broom in my hand (I had just finish sweeping) and I took that broom and started beating him with it until I broke the handle on his head.  But he kept coming and backed me up to the mantle where I had my teacups. (She collected cups and saucer) and I begin throwing them at him and when I realize I was breaking my cups…. I got mad and threw them harder and one hit him over the eye…. He stopped and went down…it was a bad cut.

cc:  What did you do?

MM:  I stepped over him and finishing cooking.  I knew he would live and I saw it didn’t hit him in the eye and it gave him something to remember this moment.  You have to leave a mark on people to remember you by….. hopefully it’s a positive mark but sometime it might have to be an ugly one.  People will treat you the way you let them and there will be time you have to show and leave them something to remember it by.  Don’t go through life getting beat up especially by yourself.

There were a few times I didn’t follow that bit of advice…...but understanding, the light came in time.


15
MM:  You have to open up and let people in --- because a lot of times you see yourself through them and don’t you want them and yourself to see the truth?  THE TRUE YOU!

Early mornings were wonderful for Ms. Minerva:

MM:  Morning is my time to talk to Me and God and get us together for the day.  Some folks don’t know that they are God….your positive energy creates your world and parts of the world of others.  When you create you must be honest, positive, loving……God!  So, my quiet times in the morning is finding honest, positive, loving, creative things and feeling…..finding God in me!!!!!!!!

(Song – Amazing Grace)


One night while watching TV; we watched a lot of TV…..watching TV and cooking…anyway, it was the Mitch Miller Singers and Leslie Uggams was singing:

MM:  That’s a cute little colored girl.
CC:  Mama, we’re not colored anymore, we’re Black.

There was silent and then a sigh….

CC:  What’s the matter mama?
MM:  I’ve been *****, colored and a few other names that I don’t want to talk about and now I’m Black……I wish they would make up their minds what I am!

Then she told me:

MM:  No matter who or what people think you are…You have to know yourself, people will always try to make you into what they want you to be but the final choice is yours. You Must Know Curtis.

Her helpful hints could and would come anytime, anywhere:
MM:  life is a lesson to learn…never, never stop learning!
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Whenever I talk about Ms. Minerva I realize how much she means to me and how good it makes me feel because I see how good it makes others feel……people showing me…..Me and Ms. Minerva.

The day Ms. Minerva died I was in Shreveport/Bossier, LA in the Air Force, it was September 1976.  I was at work in the printing plant at Barksdale AFB.  My boss told me the commander wanted to see me, he was acting a little strange but at the time I didn’t think much of it.  Walking out to my car my best friend ran out after me and said he was going with me….”they call for me too.”  We got in the car laughing and talking about all the things they coul

I wonder who these bosses think they are, bossying me around like some kind of slave. Tea
at 8,tea at 10,tea in between every break. Do they
know the fatigue from the stairs? I sincerely doubt, not with their password controlled elevators.
The other day one of those big men amused me. Mbu tell me Celia, why do u charge the same price even for people who take no sugar. I barely held bac insults and instead said, now if I were to charge according to how much sugar you take, I would charge those that take the price of quarter a kilo since I neither buy in spoons nor cups. And then for you that don't take sugar I would charge for the fuel used to boil the water.
hmph, men!!

an epic poem that I can't convince my pen to write
'cause I've been far too busy riding city buses
and drinking beer,  and staying in bed.

a theme of budding alcoholism,
                                              and seasonal depression.

classes and meals skipped,
                                                  comas and car crashes.
it's all real, and it's all happening.

it's going home and then leaving it again,
boxes both packed and unpacked,
facebook messages I wish I could take back.

pages I leave blank,
                    when I want to write all the way down.
puking in your driveway,
                              the last night that I skipped town.
phone calls to celia,
                                 until I get to go see her again.
running into your houses,
                                 smoking cigarettes with friends.

I hope that Portland swallows you up.
and that Seattle drowns you.

Sigue, sigue blanca estrella,
Por el cielo en que naciste,
Sin dejar ninguna huella...
Siempre te hallaré más bella,
Siempre te hallaré más triste.

Hoy vengo con mi dolor,
Cual antes feliz venía;
Mas ya nunca, astro de amor,
Ceñirás con tu fulgor
Ni su frente ni la mía.

Tú cruzas por ese cielo,
Dando con tu luz la calma;
Yo cruzo, por este suelo,
Llevando en mi desconsuelo
Lena de sombras el alma.

Dame, dame tu luz bella;
Que en esta alma sin amor,
Tú sorprenderás estrella,
En cada nube una huella,
Y en cada huella un dolor.

Tú que has escuchado el canto
De mi primera pasión,
Acompaña mi quebranto,
Y alumbra el amargo llanto
que brota del corazón.

¡Horas del primer cariño!
tú las miraste lucir,
Cuando ante tu luz de armiño,
La niña en brazos del niño
Soñaba en el porvenir.

¡Dulce amor! ¡grata ciencia!
¡Blanca luz! ¡Delirio ardiente!
¿Por qué huyes de la existencia,
Cuando una dura experiencia
Va marchitando la frente?

¡Aquellos goces extraños,
Aquel esperar en Dios,
Sin recoger desengaños,
Aquel pasar de los años
Sin perturbar a los dos!

Todo, todo, blanca estrella,
Tu tibia luz alumbró;
¡Edad de sueños aquella,
Envidiable, dulce, bella,
Que para siempre huyó!

Celia, al expirar el día,
Por estos sitios vendrá,
Ya no como antes venía,
Que aquella alma que fue mía,
Pertenece a otra alma ya.

Antes ¡ay! ¡cuánto embeleso!
Sollozando de placer,
Dejaba en mi frente un beso;
Por eso, estrella; por eso
No quiero volverla a ver.

Ahora, dulce y cariñosa,
En otro sus ojos fijos,
Tendrá su boca amorosa
La majestad de la esposa
Para besar a sus hijos.

Con tus rayos blanquecinos
Alumbra siempre su hogar;
Aparta nuestros caminos,
Y ¡ay! que sus ojos divinos
No aprendan nunca a llorar.

Si sigues, tú, blanca estrella,
Por el cielo en que naciste,
Sin dejar ninguna huella...
Siempre te hallaré más bella,
Siempre me verás mas triste.

Caminen a mi lado

Desenvuélvanse conmigo

Abran su ojos y observen a su alrededor

Sientan como me brotan las palabras del pecho

Ustedes me hacen feliz

Me hacen sentir humana

Hay cosas que a veces dañan

Pero siempre existe un alma que llega y repara

Y no solo hablo de una

Sino de todas



Hablo de las personas sencillas

Las que se detienen a oler las flores

Las personas que aman a los demás a veces más que a sí mismos

Los que se dan  a pedazos todos y cada uno de los días



En esta vida hemos besado demasiados labios

Hemos abrazado gente que ahora ni un hola nos da

Hemos derramado palabras

A personas que no merecían siquiera saber los secretos del universo

Hemos compartido espacio con personas que solo se preocupaban por su propia satisfacción mental y emocional

Y nos hemos convertido en algo frágil.



Pero hemos aprendido o amenos yo si

Que no porque ames te amaran

Que no porque digas la verdad significa que no te van a mentir

Que aunque des lealtad siempre habrá traición

Que los amigos vienen y van

Que aunque perdones aun existirá el rencor



La humanidad es tan compleja

Te puede arrancar de tus sueños

Y llevárselos con el viento

Pero como he aprendido de lo brutal sé que también la vida me va asombrar

Y yo creo en el amor

En que no importa que mi forma de expresarme sea explosiva

Siempre habrá alguien que sienta lo mismo que llevo en mi ser

Porque después de todo no somos tan diferentes



Creo en la honestidad

En la lealtad

Creo en las buenas almas

En soñar

Como de niños solíamos hacerlo

Creyendo que seriamos reyes, princesas, doctores etc…



Hay que recordar al despertar

Lo que nos ayudó a crearnos

Y luchar hasta la cima llegar

Pero siempre con humildad.

Hasta encontrar el sentido de aquello que nos transmite luz…

De aquello que nos transmite vida.



Que nunca se pierda la creatividad, La felicidad, La paz

Y la aceptación

Para aprender a disfrutar todo lo que la vida aún tiene escrito para nosotros

Sin que exista el arrepentimiento

Pero que si exista el perdón para no cargar con enojo.



Porque no siempre obtenemos lo que deseamos

A veces, tenemos que esperar

Quizás por mucho tiempo

Y esta en uno si crecemos o nos vamos en la agonía durante el proceso.



E pasado los últimos meses

Cuestionando mí camino

En donde estoy ¿

Hacia dónde voy?

En si las decisiones que tomo son las correctas?

Me pregunto a cuantas personas e herido

Me pregunto cuántas oportunidades e desaprovechado

Y me pongo triste y me enojo,

Es un caos

Pero entiendo que todo tiene su porque

Y que hay cosas que están fuera de nuestro alcance

Que las cosas que están destinadas a la destrucción, caerán.

Y que hay emociones que no volveremos a experimentar.



Mejores y peores cosas vendrán

Y el alma y mente abiertas deben estar

Para seguir creciendo

Seguir aprendiendo

Que no todo será dulce

Nos vamos a perder y que talvez no habrá nadie que nos encuentre



Aprendamos a abrochar nuestras propias cintas

A abrir nuestras propias puertas

Ya que no siempre habrá alguien que lo haga por nosotros

Hay que tratar de aprender algo nuevo día con día

Sea una nueva palabra

Un nuevo pasó de baile

Pero aprendamos algo

Sin desaprovechar nada

Porque entre más crecemos más extrañaremos las pequeñas cosas

Y aprenderemos que a veces lo más sencillo es lo más llenador



Dejemos de aceptar todo lo que venga con tal de no sentirnos vacíos

Merecemos las cosas y personas con las que terminemos



Así que unámonos en esto y seamos felices por El HOY .

Cada uno de ustedes es una pieza en mi rompecabezas

Cada uno con diferentes orillas pero en una misma unión .



La vida no se detiene por nadie cuando menos piensas

Aquello que llamas presente

Forma parte del pasado

En cuestión de solo un segundo.



Porque es mejor haberlo hecho

A decir [casi] lo hice

Como dice Celia [la vida es un carnaval] y hay que disfrutarla

Mi mayor meta es ser feliz y vivir

Y no solo existir.

Mi cuerpo es un Jardín, en cada una de mis ramas  esta mi gratitud

Gracias es el mayor poema que llevo dentro de mí



Por ustedes, por mí, y por toda la existencia

Salud

Right now, one of you is singing and the other is still in bed.
So I'm taking the time to think about where you guys will be in a few years.
In two years, I'll hopefully be traveling, getting out of here.
But you, Jaida darling, you're going to be a sophomore..
And Celia, you'll be in your seventh grade year.
(Who knows, maybe you'll have grown)
But to what I actually wanted to tell you today..

You know I've been sad
I've been angry
I've yelled and cried
And mom has yelled and cried
And so has dad.

And you both have been through that too.
So please, please remember
That when you finally get to high school
And everything seems kind of terrible
Like it has for me
You have an older sister who's been through
At least some part of the emotions you're feeling.

And don't go looking for help
In shiny blades
And smaller portions
Because yes, yes they will give you momentary satisfaction.
The sting and the crimson beauty,
The rush of pride on the scale.
But in the end they're just problems.
Problems, not helping, but taking away from who you can truly be.

So remeber.
Life is temporary,
So revel in every minute of it.
Being sad, depressed, upset, or angry
All of those feelings are okay.
Just don't hide them.
Because I don't want to lose any of you

Love
Me.

The pulp of brandywine leaves thistle with the dew of dawn,
the strung lights accorded bronze
sashing of the crumbled brick sacrament situated beneath the crack-
break of December 21st, Christ, Nativity,
a triptych;  Wrench the whetted, gold seed the steed
of the Order, Clementine garland
and extension cords;
Altar of Santa Celia, burnished walnut shoes,
polished silver fillium.  
The wanton hymn of baritones and wisteria hung
from candlelit pictures  pressed
between rotted chicken boxes. Merry Christmas

“Love is hard” he said, as the edges of the beach and the ocean gathered together in on-the-ground clouds brushed up by the wind.

“What’s the hardest kind?” she said, staring out at the clouds, the ones on the ground and up above.

“Self-Love” He said.

“You’re right,” She said smiling but still not looking at him. “The kind I feel with you, is much much easier.”

The clouds subside
She puts her hand in mine
Our hearts walk out with the tide
Leaving nothing but our minds
To think about the times we had.
That’s all we have ever have.

“Tom?” She asks.

“Celia?” He replies.

“I love me.”

“I love you too.”

Feliz Navidad we sing.
The Christmas show. A
Warning is said. "I'm
Leaving. New York."
Then Sydnie left.
Without our glue,
Joanna and I strayed
Away. I was five.

I found a new friend.
Lilly. We played. At the
Park, at school, art class.
She was gone, last day
Of school. "Who will see
Her this summer?" "I will."
Her magnet still hangs on
My fridge. I was six.

Girl Scouts. Bullying.
Hailey and Hannah were
There. We went to the
Zoo, on playdates. Friends
Came and left along the
Way, but they have always
Been there. I was seven.
She came up to me in gym.
A year older than me. I
Was running alone. Playing
A game I called homeless;
Basketball. Erica opened me up.
I talked to her and her friends
before school. Boys. Bagels.
One of them smoked. Last day
of school. She was moving.
I was eleven.

Summertime has ended. School is
Back, as is dance. I'm taking
A new class. Modern. Sophie just
Moved here. Over the year, we
Create Jimmothy Timmons and I
**** her snake, kind of.
I was twelve.

A boy sits next to me in Social
Studies. Ethan. He plays video
Games. I've always wanted to.
Another boy, Cormack looks
Over. He has a crush on me. The
Three of us talk at my locker
Every day. Cormack lies. They both
ask me to the dance. I was thirteen.
A girl runs up to me in gym.
Cindy. I talk to her. We play
Homeless, and talk about boys.
She has anxiety, like me.
I was thirteen.

I look over to my left one day
At lunch. It's Cindy, and...
Sophie? She goes to my school?
And it's Rebecca, and Maren, and
Sophia, and Grace, and Aillyana.
Over the year, I switch from
Facing Hailey and Hannah, to
them. I was thirteen.

Ethan and I text all the time.
We go to two dances. Cormack
Still tries to talk to me, still
Comes to my house, but I don't
Let him in. I was thirteen.

Ethan gives me a letter. It takes
A few days for me to read it. We
Never end up dating. I was thirteen.

I'm still friends with Hailey and
Hannah. With Cindy, Sophie, Rebecca,
Maren, Sophia, Grace, and Aillyana.
We all become friends with Joey,
And hang out all the time. I dance
With some of them. I have another
Family now, my Impulse girls. I
Will be rooming with Cindy next
Year. At school dances, we make
A salsa circle. We had around
Twenty people join us once.
I've made friends along the way.
Jośe, Aíne, Celia, Rose, Ananya,
Erin, Ginny, Abbey, Devon, Bella,
Three Emmas, Angelina, Claire,
Carley, Karina, Naomi, Riley, Oliva,
Abi, Sarah, Rachel, Allison, Tanu,
And many others. I've lost even more
Friends. Kennedy, Sonya, Brooke,
Cristopher, Aisa, Yusuf, Zoey, Emily,
Hallie, Chelsea, Gianna, Autumn, two
Jades, Donovan, Olive, Kaitlin, and
More. But I love the ones I've kept,
and I wouldn't have it any other way.
I am seventeen.