Contact
laurengwhite@aol.com
My thoughts are wildly young
structurally fragrant
My dreams — meandering hopes,
as I walk alongside this firm
green path of swirling circuitous roads—
lead back to further questions:
Is it offered with empathy? With
a foundation of introspection?
Freedom has never come to me
without great responsibility
2 February 2018
Hunger
Ricky reads to keep from dying. The words as crusts of the most luscious bread. I've never known hunger so monumental.
Most likely he would argue the point, yet no matter his reaction, I know what I see.
Even if my analysis falls short of the mark.
My eyes are roving, moving machines.
I see.
Books wake him in the morning and comfort him at night. He reads of war, of political conspiracies, torture, psychology, medicine, Russia, the legacy of this racist landscape .
He reads Dostoyevsky, Mark Lane, Alice Miller, Judith Herman, MLK Jr., Jimmy Baldwin and on and on.
We have time to work, eat, sleep.
What remains of us are the books.
They endure.
No friends visit here. Lots of deliveries though. Books, food, computers.
I'm embarrassed by my loneliness when with him. I love books too, but they are not my escape, my company, my lover. Words arranged nicely; poignant, sincere language can be so seductive. They open my eyes, always have. They are not, however, my world.
You must understand his brilliance. It is rare and elegant, but he is also distant, moody and hard to pin down. A man constructed mostly of words doesn't share the same world.
I look for him, here, there, everywhere.
He is my friend.
Riff No. 2
i consider
the sun's effect
on roses
have u thought about
wild, raging color
against a monochromatic sky?
seems so silly baby.
what are the odds?
the dichotomy lives only in the mind
and still
i reach for you
when you are not here
i don't know how to breach
this gray landscape
pero, the sun beckons
on the other side
i wait
patiently
dedicated to. r.c.
leaves swirl
below time
as if the tree of life
were some raw
archaic
irrelevant
imperfect
recording
a lost jazz standard
dexter howls
and the wind beneath
reveals nothing
but white noise
people still
fall
and yet
i manage to only
catch glimpses
as they reach my
fingertips
leaves
gathering at my feet
untitled
i lost my feelings for u today
ive searched around the the apartment for them
went out into the world searching the ground
for them
called my friends
asked if they had seen them
been carrying em around for months
doesn't seem right
i could lose them so quickly
without a fight
too
just the loss of love
drippin out thru various places
along the bottom
of a grief filled opening
that had your name
attached to the gate
genius and the problem of appropriation
poem #1
nappy heads
tell the stories
and
did ya see thelonious monk dance
'round the piano
his hat
bout ta fall off his head
the man's
bastard nut
safe distance away
tho we could hear him holler
tell the stories
tell the stories
tell the stories
requiem
i had discovered myself in many different places
over time, and sought to walk, head held high, thru all of them.
but, there i stood, in your eyes, seeing what was lacking...
the images burned...
Epilogue
i
blieve in the power
of destiny
and
i held myself against
the raw mirror of experience
u wuz put in my path
and i got to watch u
for a little while
and
that wuz cool. real cool
La Noches De Cuba
the waves crash
against my resistance
even as they move
outside my window
they roar and insist.
as you do
es porque te amo, y, te quiero...mi corazon
Sudden Death
we cud write it like a football play
or a missed basket
cuz you know
you mens like ta act like its all
the same
ya didnt hear or respond
cuz u was too busy
seeing weird things in ur head
that kinda looked like me
but had no essence..no smell..no taste
all cuz u said u was tired
an sore
and i left ya alone
i could
lay down with a man
that looks nuthin like u
has no sense of touch
or rythmn..sinful..like that
ta get me thru
then i wud be like the weird thing in ur head
and
you would feel mo betta
cuz
what u wuz dreamin
came true
in ur life time
yet again
i dont know you
brotha
well enuf
to go into ur private movies
ur strange daydreams
u said u would treat us wit care
like we deserved
but ya still aint
still
aint
not
yet
