December 0

Blog Archive

Thu, 24.09.2009


and some where distantly
there is an answer
as surely as this breath
half hangs befo my face
and some where there is a move meant
as certain as the wind
arrives and departs from me.

and always.
there is the struggling to be
and constantly our voices rise.
in silent straining to be free…

and somewhere
there is an answer. a How.
that I can feel and be felt in.
and live within a Reason
and a Way
and some time
there is a Morning.
the rise of an Other Day.
(but the Fight is in the wading.
waiting out this night.

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Thu, 24.09.2009

CHOOSING THE BLUES (for S. Brandi Barnes) by Angela Jackson.

When Willie Mae went down to the barber shop to visit her boyfriend who cut hair there I went with her.
Walking beside her on the street the men said hey and stopped to watch her just walk.
Boyfriend barber cut hair and cut his glance at her, O, he could see the tree for the forest.
He pressed down the wild crest on a man’s head and shaved it off just so he could watch her standing there by the juke box choosing the blues she would wear for the afternoon.
Right there Little Milton would shoot through the store-front with the peppermint stick sentry twirling outside
“If I didn’t love you,

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New Poem Each Day

Poetry Corner

I have just seen a most beautiful thing Slim and still Against a gold, gold sky, A straight black cypress, Sensitive, Exquisite, A black finger Pointing upwards. Why, beautiful still finger, are you black? And why are you... THE BLACK FINGER by Angelina Weld Grimke’.
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