poet smoet

here it is, the last day of national poetry month i have not written one poem. not one, single, solitary poem. do i feel bad? not really. would i have like to have written one? sure. but instead, i have decided to share one of my fav poems by one of my fav poets: Imamu Amiri Baraka.

Ka 'Ba

A closed window looks down on a dirty courtyard, and black people call across or scream or walk across defying physics in the stream of their will Our world is full of sound Our world is more lovely than anyone's tho we suffer, and kill each other and sometimes fail to walk the air We are beautiful people with african imaginations full of masks and dances and swelling chants with african eyes, and noses, and arms,  though we sprawl in grey chains in a place full of winters, when what we want is sun. We have been captured,  brothers. And we labor to make our getaway, into the ancient image, into a new correspondence with ourselves and our black family. We read magic now we need the spells, to rise up return, destroy, and create. What will be the sacred words?  http://www.amiribaraka.com/