Lee B. Mack (01/04/1957 to / Shelbyville, Kentucky)
Casting calls gang the young blowing the movement
Toward convening struggle and talent to scout for
The renaissance casting for hallowed shell for the pearl
Of black powers’ resurrect from the drive by streets
Now spiritually empty and stale resentiment runs
To the storms’ drain of the black berry sweet
Streets of fervor beat with power blaster repertory with
Punk rock and the heavy Latino taps of trumpet jazz
From fenced courtyards of concave hollows
Skate-board pits and Rap Ensembles where the spirit
Climbs on visible legs of inundated roots running
Through veins that pipe into the mind and in the mind
Elect to hear wind chimes mysteriously casting calls
For greater things than these will they do with organs
Of wisdom anointed with rain to leach grounded talent
To work release of two-legged alleles rise to tree-box
like the starry eyed feline galaxy blending into the night
Ascending from empty canopic jars the art of colloquial
Numbering calendaring the labor of birth to render wages
That appeases endowing tyranny inside the villages
From castings into time an ill wind will blow its howling
Forewarning to pack to leave to run to go… so sexual
Female flowering with permission come with us and
Those of sainted faithfulness shall remain where once
The learned lived by the value of relationships preened
To sap the once green now withering brown come down
In visions of fertile greening to bar the lean of the
Barren forest of tree topped limbs that rod empty ribs
Under the canopy of the sky… rain on the gathering
Blue lake soon rising in the bowl vanishes
Into the ascending spirit return to sun… so now
Resumes casting the spirit spots upon the stage.
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