-- Nah deyaintneberseedisbukagin
he didnt wipe the spittle from his lips
and chin
I followed his angst and
violation
nothing
like it was taught to us when we were school
suppose Curriculum circled its
wagons long before we descended and excised those parts it deemed unpalatable
never mind the reportage was honest or true
Curriculum nixed that victors make
rules slayers make rules
thats the Rule
the buk - as
he snarled - was Fear Itself
he read me a passage from it
the hackles on his
neck and back twisted into spines
his
fingers hooked like talons and it
almost
fell from his hands
“. . . one drop of Negro blood placed in the
veins of the purest Caucasian destroys the inventive genius of his mind and
strikes palsied his
creative faculty . . . ”
he topped it off with
this red cherry
from out the
mouth of Mississippi Senator Theodore G. Bilbo
“. . . the difference in the
intellect, in the brain, in the mind (between blacks and whites, making) the
white man throughout all time . . . the superior race, the ruling race, the
race of creating power, the race of art, the race of literature, the race of
music that moves the soul”
it hung in the air
for a long
time between us
before he looked up from the page glaring
if we werent friends
I
would have thought he was glaring at my white skin
-- The race of music that moves the soul . . .
Really
he laughed abruptly
Ya muthafuckers struggle to dance
-- And you cant swim for your life
we both bursted
into laughter
almost to
tears
Yah
deyaintneberseedisbukagin
No it wasnt hard to see from then
on hed grip that hardbound buk in his hands
finger it run chapter and verse
out of it as deftly as he spoke
from Gospel from the tattered black
leather Bible the only thing his
old man left him
when he died
it went everywhere he did
now it had a companion
2204, Friday,
11 7. 14
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