Jane Jazz

Cool as smooth
sunrise to sunset.

Sunrise cool
she moves
she moans
she is sunset
blazing red and hot yellow
mixed with black things
awakening howls
beneath primitive.

Give unto caesar

what is caesar's
but dat gal's

gotta get some.
Got mo people stoppin
den da dew drop inn.
She oughta ask somebody
cause she don't know
how fine she is.

Smooth to cool
loving her just ought to be.

Say nothing now
lay afraid
between duets
An ibo cameo
night just before the stars

Give unto god

what is god's
but lawd

let me have her for a while
she'll come

when sportin life calls

she'll go
I cain't stop her
she got to be somebody
got to find something.

Cool to smooth too
check.

Palm Sunday preachin'
Easter clothes
spirit on high
thank you jesus
head down
hand waving
fist full of money
amen.

Smokey at three
ladies are a pair.
lawd have mercy
head down
hand waving
southern comfort
amen.

temptation
between heaven and earth
souls lost and won
forgive me father

cause Jane Jazz is
cool and smooth
amen.

Mom says
stay way from dat

Dad says
marry dat quick

the boys say
hit dat and quit dat

soul akimbo
her hair a flair
only she understands.
high note cool
low note smooth

A razor
that cuts to the bone
leaving a scar.
damn.

To a Lost Love

The land blows away
one handful at a time.
It heaps against the windows
in forgotten places
now and again.

The rain ran through her hair
filled her mouth
slipped from her fingers.
Now comes the dust bowl years.
The swirls catch me up
drop me nowhere
near the rainbow.

Mirrors held face to face
diminishing
endless.
How endless is the land
her yield diminishing.
How forward and reverse
a curse of knowledge.

The rain was today.
Rivulets from her shoulders
down her arms
and off her fingertips.
I lay under them
hoping
drops of potent potion
will fill me as a well.

Waterfalls vaporize
create forest and frenzy
cool and calm
pool and purpose.

A perfectly cornered thing
blows across the land
hides queens
and covers kings
with dust.
It points beyond the wind
to a heart that holds lost love.

#38

Should I coolly cascade up the stairs
and meet him.
Should I throw down our faces
and our wits
or should I not.
Should I buy the beer
and frost a heart
as one would a glass.
Should I sift the sawdust
for the diamonds that lay there.
Should my elbow be more
mahogany than bone.
Should she behind the bar
know my eyes and my limit
or should I pass
to the rest room
and flush the handled john
even though it wasn't used.
Should I eat
with the napkin folded in my lap
or should I palm the spoon.
Should I slip the peas into my sleeve.
I am afraid to smile
as I might be a crocodilian thing
and my laugh
a howl at the moon.
Will I shake his hand.
I think that I could not.
How could I be so bronze
when all my blood is hot wax
and my ankles so well turned.
How might I enjoin a man
that spins a melody
I once hummed.
How should I tie my shoes
and be clean as a new ass.
Oh, should I or
should I not.
How could I meet him
and not
hold her hand to long.

Valentine

Pick a petal
drop it with a wish
for fire
or a cooling.

Wrap a chocolate
in a ribbon
and think picasso nude.

Hold your breath
until your lungs burn
and pretend it is desire,
but be my valentine.

Sleep with teddymen
and angular women.

Dance arabesque
on bistro tables.

Never think of me
but be my valentine.

Hold your hands
so that I might come
between them.

Close your eyes.
I will be a hologram
Light as light
upon your lips.
Be my valentine.

Be my valentine
A paper cut heart
the texture of sin.

Be my valentine.

So much depends
upon your reply.

Unremembered

How now was her mouth a thing
of teeth and tongue
when just a thought ago
they were oil wells.

Tea Cups

savored by lips
intimate with tepid
indifferent to scalds and scolds
utensils
appreciated occasionally
for beauty
form
function
found out in a small cupboard
survivors of rough treatment
tea cups
forged by itinerant alchemists
tinkering with fire, bone and ash
clumsy hands
and unexpected emotions
have killed others
vessels filled with temptation
and a new leaf.

I want to be a crayon today

I want to be a crayon today
instrument of imagination
intermediary to ideas
incendiary to action

A familiar of the hand
the color of thought
iridescent when I want to be
waxy smooth

I want to be hugged
by cinnabars and ceruleans
blended on rag
with indigo and heliotrope

always firm
except when radiated
easily sharpened
shaving of once was

proud scribble of sunday
the purple of saturday
melting all over you
I want to be a crayon today