Kenneth Carroll   BLUES (for my father n nem) my father n nem, roun the side of the house, lyin, denyin, n signifyin (nigga I know you lyin now!) n tellin the truth in its rawest form chasin the shade to its sunny grave while a july sun smiles, plays the bass line my father n nem, almost alla them roun the side of the house (must be saturday) shooin away the listenin me tryin to hear their songs, future songs of my life "go play somewhere boy!" shouted daddy but where else could an eight-year-old go n hear fathers philosophyin in chords from a blues guitar held tight roun the neck by life n stroked by an essence as old as africa's rhythmic walk double solos are normal roun the side of the house & you gotta watch them changes: "aw man, here I am, look good, ball-fifty in my pocket, plenny gas in na ride..." "see dat's why king got kilt..." "n she goin go out wit dis chump whose face could take the stink outta shit..." "see we from georgia too, n my grandaddy always said..." "fool was so ugly he could look through a keyhole n put a blister on a brick." "you gotta let dese crackers know..." ("go somewhere n play boy!") "dat you'll clean ney fuckin suits wit dem in it!" center stage is crowded by the loud & quick barrel house piano voices n twelve string men that talked as smooth as stride tryin to keep sour notes of fear n frustration from destroyin the harmony of the day's sultry session wantin to say some n bout the condition of their black lives to be heard & understood as men n judged only by a jury of blue peers where are the critics to explain away the meaning of my father n nem makin dat music roun the side of the house probably somewhere gettin they fuckin suits cleaned.   THE JOYS OF KISSING what drove me crazy was her kisses (& lord 'ave mercy, she could kiss!) she had the kind of kisses that made blind men attend 3d movies the kind of kisses that made priests kick out stained glass windows her kiss was a bassline vibrating near a g spot & i want her kisses to fill this empty space that once held ......a heart my lips offer no condolences, (they ......are very uncool,) several times this week they have left my face to hunt for her this is not progressive, i know but i want to colonize her lips i want to plant a flag on her tongue i want to set up nominally independent homelands that will surround her lips i want segregation laws that will keep ......all other lips away from hers i want to force artists to write propaganda in support of her lips but i must get hip about her lips (a hip blues line here please) i want to hold jazz festivals on her ......lips where dueling tongues replace trumpet players i want her lips all over me like .....coltrane's fingers dancing wildly over them keys i want to go to a dangerous after-hours joint with her lips i can get reverent too, like i want to erect a temple on her lips & make hadj to her kiss where i will become holy & wise & ......kissed & write scripture that says, "& she kissed the sky, & yea, the sky did drool for forty days & forty nights" deliver me oh lord unto...her kiss yeah it was her kiss that drove me ......here, all crazy like this & good lord, i hope her kiss, drives me back.   Eglon Daley Of the People 150" x 90", acrylic on canvas see more of Eglon Daleyr's work         SNOOKIE JOHNSON GOES DOWN TO THE RECRUITER'S OFFICE NEAR BENNING ROAD & STARTS SOME SHIT it was right about the time they started drafting for the iraqi war snookie came to sign up but he didn't walk through the door, instead he leaped like a madman right through the plate glass & kicked the recruiting sergeant square in his no-good ass he said, "i wanna go to the desert, kill some arab chump & drink his hot blood like water from a barnyard pump i wanna get bit on my nose by a scorpion wit a bad attitude i wanna smoke twelve packs a day & eat snake heart for food i wanna drink poison gas with a side order of sand & dance with a nuclear missile while digging the junkyard band i wanna jump in an oil well & get real slick then have me a party with some them mooslim chicks cause i'm snookie johnson from a bad neighborhood & when i get ciced up i don't mean nobody good so sign me up sergeant & sign me up fast i'm just raring to kick me some motherfuckin ass" the sergeant looked at snookie with nothing but disgust knowing he was the kind of nigga can't nobody trust "you too damn crazy for the military," the sarge said wit a frown snookie gave him a sheet of paper & said, "yo man, write dat down."   THEORY ON EXTINCTION (or what happen to the dinosaurs? for my son, thomas) they were crushed by a gigantic meteor they froze to death they starved to death they didn't wash their hands they didn't brush their teeth they got really bad report cards they believed in gods that did not look like them they evolved they assimilated they died waiting for john brown/jesus christ/& forty acres & a mule they died fighting someone else's war they didn't eat their vegetables they used porcelana & faded to death they overdosed on activator they wanted to be white or arab or greek they wanted to be anything but dinosaurs they never read dinosaur history they never read dinosaur literature they read ebony and thought they had it made they read jet and thought they had made it they joined the republican party they kept shooting at their own reflections they got nose jobs/lip jobs/hip jobs they would do anything for a job they were scared of revolution they thought malcolm x was a fashion statement they stopped shouting in church they were mis-educated they pissed off the great dinosaur gods they wanted to be like the people who despised them they were, when they were here, a strange species they are long gone son, but you can see them at the smithsonian just ask for the great negrosaurus wrecks.   Kenneth Carroll is a native Washingtonian. He is the author of a book of poems, So What! For the White Dude Who Said This Ain't Poetry (The Bunny and the Crocodile Press, 1997). Carroll is the DC Site Coordinator for WritersCorps, an arts and social service program founded by the NEA and AmeriCorps that was honored in 1999 by the national Coming Up Taller Awards. He is the past president of the African American Writers Guild, served on the board of directors of the Poetry Committee of Greater Washington, and was a founding member of the 8Rock Writers Collective. Published in Volume 1, Number 2, Spring 2000.   Read more of this author's work: Carroll's Tribute to Gaston Neal: The Memorial Issue Kenneth Carroll: DC Places Issue Kenneth Carroll: Evolving City Issue Kenneth Carroll: Audio Issue