Her heart is a globe
With hidden places that
Could end the slavery
Of this mortal coiled world.

She knew things
That were deeper
Than the muddy waters
Of the Mississippi Delta.

"There are some secrets," she said,
"In this world that can't be
Kept inside too long
Before the Southern river sun
Dances them out from under
The leaves of our humid lives."

So, we are left to shake our mysteries
Like Voodoo rain sticks only to find
Stones have settled one atop the other to build
High walls around our broken luck selves.

She's my tarot, tea leaf,
good omen of luck lying--
waiting for me back in
The dark swampy bayous of the delta
Where I listen to the mud singing
Me to sleep--a lonely blues played
Against the face of the rising sun.



The Moon a Box

From across the moon
A box of paper looks like ripe
Oranges. Without glasses, when I
Look again, it appears like a carrot
Cleaned against a backdrop
Of intent and strife.

Sometimes, I twist myself
Into a purple sheet--a plum
Upside down on a flag
In the distress of Jupiter
Jumping off the kitchen counter
Into a dinette drawer of pain.
This is how I know the world;
My geography forever changing.



War, Time, Life

A war, a time,
A life hangs on
The middle hanger in
A closet like a shrine
To someone's weary past.

I Lost Long Ago Beside

Last night, in the East,
I found something I thought
I had lost long ago beside a river
Of destiny. My native tongue swam
Upstream more alive than ever.
It came to me as a Rainbow
Trout in my dream. With no scars,
It welcomed me back into a new
Translation of another America
Where language was more
Than just another flag. My native tongue
Gently whispered to me, at sometime
Close to 6:00 am, that I have never been
As far away from myself as I once thought.
With new breath, I took one more look
Back at the water to decode
My future into this new language
That I had never really lost.