Truth Thomas
AGAIN BORN
It is likely I am becoming Yoda now.
Now becoming Yoda, likely it is I am
in denial, like some post-crucifixion
contractor running away from
carpenter affiliations. But ain’t no
hiding place down here from this
force. Mind trick of Jedi there isn’t
to bamboozle syntax of time. Ever
increasing numbers of warriors are
sprouting from my chin, in battle
cloaks of gray. While looking, I was
not, become they have waves in
squadron numbers. See it, others
do—and tell me, cool this is to be.
But fear there is in this one. This
one, troubled is. For I can still
fight—wield my samurai fire to
sever any corrupted cord. Yes,
scrap I still can, but change, I still
must, to teach, for this the servant’s
way is—the only way, if anyone is
to be called a master. Of mine this
little light, shine, going to let it, I am.
HANGING UP THE BELT
Quicksand are fists that blind will follow
to trip themselves in ditches. What dragon
slayer wielding flames escapes the burns
of boomerang fire? Cancer is every battle
that answers blows with knuckle retorts.
No hook kick, back kick, kimura lock
can best beasts of war—no bristling backs
in Tiger Style, or kumite apart from cheeks
in revolution. Although these vengeance
claws would wish to fly, send hate to sleep
with fishes, “For what I want to do I do not
do” and what I scorned I have become—|
a willing sheep, a lowered guard, a change
inside the gun, a soldier speedy loading love
no tank can overcome.
Richard Dana
Crosscurrents
crylic on wood 16 x 20", 2008
see more work by Richard DanaREVELATION
You so black,
eclipses wear you
for sunglasses.
You so black,
telescopes confuse you
with the dark side of the moon.
You so black,
when charcoal gets a suntan
everybody thinks its you—
so black—so so so
eggplant, banana black, red
boned, peanut butter, you can
never be
black
enough.
NO MINER REPORT
He lives
...........in bellies
........... ...........of grottoes
when walls
...........swallow
........... ...........day—
whether one
...........or thirty
........... ...........three.
In buckets
...........shovels
........... ...........ropes
he resides—
...........a pulling
........... ...........up thing—
a resurrection
...........swing—
........... ...........a soot
filled face
...........shy around
........... ...........cameras.
SERMON ON THE BLOCK
Blessed are the homeless who find ATM asylum: for
...........their offering kingdom does not sleep nor slumber.
Blessed are those who do not mourn the death of paychecks:
...........for eviction shall overlook them like the Passover angel.
Blessed are the meek: although they will have to be
...........dead before they can cash in chips for the globe.
Blessed are vessels "in the life" hungry for refuge from fists:
...........for they shall be satisfied until pimps sing siren songs.
Blessed are the merciful whose wardrobe is camouflaged:
...........for they shall not be blasted like shooting range targets.
Blessed are the children born to suckle Cristal breasts: for
...........theirs shall be the kingdom of kindergarten concierges.
Blessed are the jaywalkers who do not play chicken
...........with cabs, for they shall live to see the other side.
Blessed are graffiti artists who paint justice over persecution’s
...........door: although this will only make news in the kingdom
........... of heaven.
Truth Thomas is a singer and poet, born in Knoxville, TN, and raised in Washington, DC. He is the author of three collections of poetry: Bottle of Life (Flipped Eye, 2010), a finalist for the People's Book Prize in London, A Day of Presence (Flipped Eye, 2008), and Party of Black (Flipped Eye/Mouthmark, 2006). His fourth collection, Speak Water, will be published in early 2012. He serves on the editorial boards of Little Patuxent Review and the Tidal Basin Review. Publications include: Callaloo, New York Quarterly, The Newtowner, and The 100 Best African American Poems (edited by Nikki Giovanni). He is a former writer-in-residence for the Howard County Poetry and Literary Society in Howard County, MD.
Published in Volume 12, Number 4, Fall 2011.
To read more by this author:
Truth Thomas: Mapping the City
