Monthly Archives: September 2012

New Mexico Blues

I ran from green to green to desert
waking up
sundried afro
in the silence of New Mexico
I don’t remember coming here
nor do I remember settling
nor do I remember waving
in my navy blue skirt that mopped the
Blantyre earth,
I wish I’d weaved the yesterdays with the tomorrows
the days feel like a skipping cassette
I use pens to rewind the tape
but nothing familiar echoes from the speaker set.
molasses girl running
in a desert of her own design,
is Africa looking for me yet?
because I’m looking back hoping I am missed.

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Poem of the Week- Little Grain of Sand

Little grain of sand

Grain little grain of sand
pebble rolled in my hand
pebble thrust in my pocket
a keepsake for a locket

Little sun big in the blue
a granule I make out of you
shine in my pebble little grain
for the moment that’s all I can gain

Baby that screams from the womb
nothing is big in this tomb
quietly laugh now and speak
silence in dead-end street

Little world round and earth-blue
make a mere eye out of you
house with a door and two slits
a garden where everything fits

Small arrow feathered into space
love fades away from its place
Carpenter seals a coffin that’s bought
I ready myself for the nought

Small grain of sand is my word, my breath
small grain of nought is my death

-Ingrid Jonker- (19 Sept 1933- 19 July 1965)

(English translation)

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The flower in the wind,
The flower in the sun,
she’s dancing for the rainbows
she’s chanting to the gods
she runs circles around circles
and nothing feels like home,
she’s dancing on steel-toed stanzas
she’s soaking up the absence.
there was a boy,
there always is a boy
but this one, this one
she can’t chase from the pages of her journal
this one she can’t be done with
he’s at the window pane
he’s the flower behind her ear
he’s what fills her gap tooth.
her palms itch,
her body is torture,
so she lets her lawless limbs go
but what good comes from dancing a solo salsa
under a half-empty moon
with a fully broken heart?

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Sometimes a cloud combusts overhead
and I watch it break itself
I watch it spread itself
I watch it tear
and free itself in sweet abadon
I like the sense of clouds
birthing clouds
on the offset that I get to
capcize off of my being
and extend body
and soul
elastic band on the wrist
of youth
and spring effect meets
skin again
I’d like to give my body
it’s sacred due
and let it combust
into tiny beings
stretched on globe
but not too far
for me to keep
and eye over
as fractures of the self
it would be beautiful.
it would be surrender

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Poem of the Week: A Woman Speaks

Moon marked and touched by sun
my magic is unwritten
but when the sea turns back
it will leave my shape behind.
I seek no favor
untouched by blood
unrelenting as the curse of love
permanent as my errors
or my pride
I do not mix
love with pity
nor hate with scorn
and if you would know me
look into the entrails of Uranus
where the restless oceans pound.

I do not dwell
within my birth nor my divinities
who am ageless and half-grown
and still seeking
my sisters
witches in Dahomey
wear me inside their coiled cloths
as our mother did

I have been woman
for a long time
beware my smile
I am treacherous with old magic
and the noon’s new fury
with all your wide futures
I am
and not white.

Audre Lorde

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