father's voice

the day he traveled to my daughter's house
it was june. he cursed me with his morning nod
of anger as he filtered his callous
walk. skip. hop. feet slipshod
from 125th street bars, face curled with odd
reflections. the skin of a father is accented
in the sentence of the unaccented.

* * *

i was a southern Negro man playing music
married to a high yellow woman who loved my unheard
face, who slept with me in nordic
beauty. i prisoner since my birth to fear
i unfashioned buried in an open grave
of mornings unclapped with constant sight
of masters fattened decked with my diminished light.

* * *

this love. this first wife of mine, died in childbirth
this face of complex lace exiled her breath
into another design, and i died became wanderlust
demanded recompense from friends for my heartbreak
cursed the land for this new heartache
put her away with youthful pause
never called her name again, wrapped my heart in gauze.

* * *

became romeo bound, applauded women
as i squeezed their syrup, drank their stenciled
face, danced between their legs, placed my swollen
shank to the world, became man distilled
early twentieth-century black man fossilled
fulfilled by women things, foreclosing on my life.
mother where do i go before i arrive?

* * *

she wasn't as beautiful as my first wife
this ruby-colored girl insinuating her limb
against my thigh positioning her wild-life
her non-virginal smell as virginal her climb
towards me with slow walking heels made me limp
made me stumble, made my legs squint
until i stopped, stepped inside her footprint.

* * *

i did not want to leave you son, this flame
this pecan-colored festival requested me
not my child, your sister, your mother could not frame
herself as her mother and i absentee
father, and i nightclub owner carefree
did not heed her blood, did not see my girl's eyes
shaved buckled down with southern thighs.

* * *

now my seventy-eight years urge me on your land
now my predator legs prey, broadcast
no new nightmares no longer birdman
of cornerstone comes, i come to collapse the past
while bonfires burn up your orphan's mask
i sing a dirge of lost black southern manhood
this harlem man begging pardon, secreting old.

* * *

i was told i don't remember who
i think i was told he entered his sister's house
cursed me anew, tried to tattoo
her tongue with worms, tried to arouse
her slumbering a veins to espouse
his venom and she leaned slapped him still
stilled his mouth across early morning chill.

* * *

rumor has it that he slapped her hard
down purgatorial sounds of caress
rumor has it that he rushed her down a boulevard
of mad laughter while his hands grabbed harness—
like her arms and she, avenger and heiress
to naked lightning, detonated him, began her dance
of looted hems gathering together for his inheritance.

* * *

blood the sound of blood paddling down the road
blood the taste of blood choking their eyes
and my son's body blood-stained red
with country-lies, city-lies, father-lies, mother-lies,
and my daughter clamoring to exorcise
old thieves trespassing in an old refrain
conjured up a blue-black chord to ordain.

* * *

wa ma ne ho mene so oo
oseee yei, oseee yei, oseee yei
wa ma ne ho mene so oo
he has become holy as he walks toward daresay
can you hear his blood tissue ready to pray
he who wore death discourages any plague
he who was an orphan now recollects his legs.

wa ma ne ho mene so oo: he is arising in all his majesty
oseee yei: a shout of praise