At night while whitey sleeps
the heart of a thousand
African fires burns across my chest
I hear the beat of a war drum
dancing from a distant land
dancing across a mighty water telling me to strike
Enchanted by this wild call
I hurl a brick through
a store front window and disappear…
Reprinted by permission of Norman Jordan.
learn morePopsicle Cold
Now
that the story has moved
out of the headlines
the widow of the dead
black hero stands alone
at the public market
purchasing polluted pork
with government food stamps…..
Clairvoyance
City birds
fly in small bunches
on Sunday morning
as if they knew
what happened the night before…
From destination ashes by Norman Jordan.
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