James Emanuel Poems

He dug what she said:
bright jellies, smooth marmalade
spread on warm brown bread.
...

I hear a whistling
Through the water.
Little Emmett
Won't be still.
...

I
My friends do not know.
But what could my friends not know?
About what? What friends?
...

A little bit of fool in me
Hides behind my inmost tree
And pops into the narrow path
I walk blindfolded by my wrath
...

To every man
His treehouse,
A green splice in the humping years,
Spartan with narrow cot
...

EVERYTHING is jazz:
snails, jails, rails, tails, males, females,
snow-white      cotton bales.
...

In tight pants, tight skirts,
Stretched or squeezed,
Youth hurts,
Crammed in, bursting out,
...

When three, he fished these lakes,
Curled sleeping on a lip of rock,
Crib blankets tucked from ants and fishbone flies,
Twitching as the strike of bass and snarling reel
...