evenings. Shiver your hands
in dance. Empty all of me for
knowing, and will the danger
of identification..."
- Amiri Baraka "The New World"
may your words color the minds of a thousand
blank stares. may they rest inside keyholes and
deadbolts, to rust and break. may your words
stick in craws, lodge themselves under sensitive
gumlines, and force careful extraction from any mouth.
may you write with a thousand hands, a thousand
pens from a thousand schoolhouses caging frustration
and anger. may you speak with a thousand voices
from rooftops and jail cells, from coffeeshops and
podiums, from the muffled scream of triumph or
hatred or fear or joy into the palm of a hand to hold
for all time.
No comments:
Post a Comment