I met him reading the forward on “Voices from Leimert Park: a poetry anthology”
Glued to his words; I wanted to wear his eyes
I searched and searched for his whereabouts
I then purchased a one-way ticket and slept between his words.
Pages after pages his poetry became my sanity
Drinking this marathon of knowing
I came across an image, What a beauty!
I then wore his eyes and saw…
Folds of memoirs,
An antic mahogany well polished and aged,
Eye lids heavy with expression,
Books resting on his shoulder,
His mouth full of “Beat” notes,
He is a graduate of life school
An alumnus of mother earth…
I then wore his soul…
Placed my face on the cold glass
watched “Jazz” floating on the bayou
I carved his name out of my pain,
whispered my want in his absence,
poetry touching my breast,
music kissing my lower lips,
in and out of consciousness,
I welcomed him.
I then wore his eyes…
Poetry, music, religion, humanity all that and more
by the time I finished my conversation
He stayed on the screen and I took him to my country.
dedicated to Bob Kaufman... American Beat poet and surrealist inspired by jazz music and revolutionist.
© 2009 Emu Getachew
This is a poem at the margins of understanding for a reader. It is for the reader to decide on his or her investment in this piece. There is a real question about the reward that might be available after finishing. That too, is up for negotiation with the author. I choose not to bid. GW62
Superb, outstanding. fantastic, mindblowing.......a 10 for you.
a masterpiece is definitely in the making... these lines conjure that eye-captivating visage resonant imagery used here well done
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
And your country is? That could be part of the poem. Don't let it end here.