Monday, August 15, 2011

to walk it (Gratitude Poem #15)

When I met Lamar I was thanking my ancestors. We were speaking on a panel together at the first ever Triangle Black Gay Pride. He had just moved to the area to get his PhD. He was a "yes" out of the corner of my eye, a brother-in-waiting, a bridge to all the other black poet peace petals on the planet. An ancestor worshipper like me.

We celebrated James Baldwin's birthday together, with words and more than words and promptly laced our lives together into time and space traveling non-stop affirmation. I love you Lamar! You amaze and inspire me. And your role in this community of praise, preacher, prophet poets in this community is crucial, and irreplaceable!

And for all the rest of you walking this dusty road of do-it-ourselves legendary status, I am fundraising for a once in a lifetime opportunity to visit St. Croix to re-immerse myself in the spirit of Audre Lorde on the invitation of the amazing Gloria Joseph!!! Every person who donates gets a love poem from me based on one of the poems in Audre Lorde's final published collection of poems The Marvelous Arithmetics of Distance.

Join the journey here:

to walk it

For L. Lamar Wilson

After Audre Lorde’s “Dear Joe”

we like our legends


our luminaries weak


to fit between

the lines

but you brother

lilting perfect

flower stem tribute

believe in us so




throw dirt on the road

to walk it

you stowaway crawlspace

for love

you crooked crossroads

where gender falls


where midnight grasps the hand

of the mourning and wakes up

walk it

say fuck the pretense

this my name in cursive

dancing across your face

this kiss the cool cheek of essex

faced away from joe still waits for

burning up

this the light sprite of just right

who will pronounce your name love

and then love again

until you learn it

refuge from the name drop sun-tea of striving

you touch ghosts

the way they want

to be


swirl the jangled street

into homecoming

here to recognize

the small place

where skin can meet skin

is infinite

and we might live

but that is no reason to give


and we might die but that is no reason to



lean heavy in the drunkening sweep

of shared air

tar thick days restarting

glean caress out of tree branch missing sky


dry mud tracks to tears

stretched legion to come back through

heaven lifted to laces


dirt road enough

to walk

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