12-29-2014 The Opening I was born Through a crack A lesser poet would say That the is that But a wordy poet I be Brevity is not for me. In nineteen and fifty three I was born through a crack To see Well if I be true, The suspicious thing truth be The soft spot of my head widened the crack But what small detailed Matters that! A crack is a crack is a crack. In Big-mama Mississippi as a kid To town and movie she took me And what do a child see Batman of my St. Louis T. V. Winkled suit on the big scream A crack in the industry of movies made To these days of their Rehashing old sixtish T. V. I half expected the Coal Dust Twins Then a crack in my In my granddads radio. This winter soon Soon indeed I will be broadcasting Salt down to St. Louis ice Ice on the streets is not nice you would agree. Broadcasting must be cracked I learned that It was in the 50s when it Happened to me When Walter Cronkite Gave details from the T. V. Nightly I do believe. I met him once, yes indeed When uncle Lucas Big-mamas brother Took me to a father and son dinner At our church He was a rough face white man To my childish eyes As I studied and spied And was introduced to he. I was amazed to see Him suddenly appear In live color with rough pink skin And not the smoky grayness Of black and white T. V. I questioned, how could it be And a crack appeared In my T. V. And I could see. And T. V. like that I could no longer take as true No longer have it wash over me. It now put me to mind Of Myra Breckenridge Or some such thing. It hinted me again As it lightly will When in nineteen-seven three To hear with my own ears That Diana Ross Could not only sing One note at once but two and three Amazed I tried and tried again Till I asked, why cant I? A crack appeared in my cassette They called it dub and that was that I never heard music like That again. And on and on it goes The cracking that leads to holes In the INTERNET it is so When someone there within Called me nigger then d-friended. The cracks still comes And toward them I seeks to view Some hint of truer truth. I need to see and see again To see the things I see. God was cracked long ago When I sought out my soul And could not see where it be I need to see the thing I see. Then the sky cracked open Close to me And I saw my fear of the thing And it touched my friend Walking his Spaniard dog And it was plain to see What I truly believe That Nature cracked opened heaven for me To see that God I could not see But the God that covers me Nature be the thing that god be To believe if I wished to see That God is antisocial toward me I accept that thing that I see Though the cracks that fascinates me Like the one my birth brought me trough To give this bit of wordiness to you.
Posted on: Mon, 29 Dec 2014 09:42:45 +0000
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