I'm currently in Greensburg, Pennsylvania doing my second year of Cave Canem. I would've posted my poems on facebook sooner, but a brotha's been caught up with the fellowship and good vibes. I'll be posting more as the week continues.


Poem

Is it the hardest to write,
the one most elusive?

Something peeks over
your shoulder and whispers:
You're outcha' league, here.

Go back to writing rap lyrics.
Your mind is a field you plow
for ideas. And what do you

call upon when you're heavy-lidded
with your page still blank at sunrise,
when the deadline is hours away

punching his palm, nodding
with a wink and smile?



Totem

She told you what you were
after holding tight enough

to squeeze an ohh out of her.
Your hugs were massive --

something wild and grizzled
that functioned off instinct

and urges. And as a kid,
you couldn't understand

how a man's blood
was pulled by the lunar force

of a woman, or how her fragrance
and peek of flesh stirred

what slept so long inside you
until it rose up on its hind legs,

pawing at the light
ladled over bare limbs.

Drift

The wind swooped and cackled
when you cursed the last train
leaving the platform.

It was New Year's Day.

You spent the night before counting
down at a subway station, wishing
you'd listened to instinct and stayed

home. But what called you out

at the last minute, and had you
chewing Jell-O shots at a bar
across town, where confetti

spiraled like glitter inside

a snow globe? Were you searching
for something New Year's Day among
the buzzing kazoos and party blowers

punching the air? That night,

the bright streamers were serpents
curled among liquor bottles that blurred
like landscape through the windows

of a train headed to the end

of its line. You watched the lit
subway cars zig zag the night
like the Dancing Dragon

of Chinese New Year.

Headz Up

Nate wipes down his barber chair
as if he were buffing his shiny
cranberry Lincoln - his testament

to young bloods about the importance
of investing. Yuh don't have to take it all

at once. Half a pill'll keep yuh up
for three hours. Ain't got no 'S'
on my chest, and fo' damn sure

don't run 'round with no blue tights.
But afta' 65 years on this earth,

ladies still call me 'the man of steel.'
Yall laughing, but this ain't no magic-
seeds-and-beanstalk typa' story.

See that car outside?
A woman bought me that.