honeystain…
the rhetoricians of blackness
matters me not
we are black
and you are beautiful
it matters me not whether
your breast are American pumpkin or
African gourds
they are full and you are beautiful
it matters me not be your belly
black or brown
it is soft and you are beautiful
it matters me not be your buttocks
bourgeois or “grass roots”
they are good
and you are beautiful
it matters me not if your bread loaf
thighs are Negro or Afro-American
they are round and so ripe
and you are so beautiful
it matters not whether it is
Victoria falls
yes, yes
it’s time
to do my spring thing
hanging
around the sweet and the green
flowing
up warm sap
rising
days of
being fresh as April and
common as grass
yes, yes
it’s spring
to do my time slow
as the bulbs burst
from the scrotal earth
while
the gay and golden sun sighs
over the bright dick daffodils’
stiff erections
Yes, yes
it’s my thing to time
my spring
by the frequency of small
patches of black
grass in the splendor
of thighs
without words-
worth…
