I thought I heard him say, “People move.  Humans move.”

But isn’t the prism between gods and monsters 

the mere soft

Subletting 

between fiction and death?

I thought I heard

About it

Memories wanting release

Ethereal

Floating on to other things

I thought I heard

About it

Not in song

Or elegy,

No hymnal.

Can’t quite say

What most black people

Know

But never tell,

Lying through slits

In our teeth,

Forever lying to ourselves

Memories wanting release

Ethereal

Floating on to other things

Making what we did

Then

Another minstrel show

With ragged top hat & tails

Scuffed shoes

a shit-stained bow

We know the shuck

& jive too well,

the spinning toe-loops,

the settling of black code

Debts,

Half pennies on the dollar,

Memories wanting release

Ethereal

Floating on to other things

And then it was

Long days illuminated through

Young, misty eyes

Mercurial.  1973. 

And the Chants of ‘Run, Bobby, Run’

Trumpeting through

Faulty speakers,

DeFremery days, long days

With the Ghost 

Of Lil’ Bobby Hutton

Straddling

Between

Love and destruction

I thought I heard

Him say,

“People move.

Humans move.”

Making 809 57th Street

another remarkable

millisecond,

fleeting as it is,

purpose tucked away

in old wood

worn of fighting

simply recoated

with new varnish,

maple-colored,

stainless-steel and quartz

Memories wanting release

Ethereal

Floating on to other things

And now an Old Lion

Lays down his

Shield and armor

Licking his tired

Paws in wild grass

And orange sunsets

Memories wanting release

Ethereal

Floating on to other things

I simply cannot beat my drum

Any longer

I blame no one

Everything around me

Now

Is

Memories wanting release

Ethereal

Floating on to other things.