Monday, November 23, 2015

Nat Turner's granddaughters finally know how beautiful they are

Twirling their saddle wrapped braids on the playground next to Miles Davis. They're all children and forever will.  be    .    A black  middle  class.  Never will be   the goal   or   ...     They all get buckets of chicken from their mothers, land on double sided trains on the way to reclaimed territory in Arkansas or Live at the Plantation Club  with  Billy Eckstein and them  rubbing wings together   to make a ground     we'll be   the   gold      cash   for        neon   on the door
                                                                                                            It was my job   to understand
all our   patient      violence      as   sorrow and          that   way   (nor)            cry  about it privately   like      a   dry   elbow   under   leadership  oak /   folks   wanna   pop   off   /   better   have   the   plan       and that's   as good   as   any     being   Nat Turner's   genes  run  through  me like every other  fantasy   and you     should see these   braids     trading  fingers    with   piano  keys     at Communist   Training   School     first   person     infinitive       all   the   disobedience    trapped in beauty   coming  loose     as      style