Thursday, September 27, 2007

American Rite Of Passage | The 21st Birthday

my blonde african princess’

blue eyes in the headlights

a black S.U.V. careens down the cul-de-sac

tight white denim and chortling bullet belt

disappear into cacophany

hey Girl, love the ‘do!

this is so and so and so!

midnight chokes my ancestors

after the obligatory drink

lead to honest complaints:

my sex life is better than hers;

my thoughts are too free

she'd rather not think

and for her, tonight is full of being real

identification happily surrendered.

Friday, September 21, 2007

Surreal Pocket In This Universe I Create, Hello!

The saga of “London Mouth” draws to an end. A few weeks ago, we dealt with the “minimal” decay our dentist helped us stave off during our last year in London. We were lucky.

After that major ordeal over a year ago, our dentist sent us back to London armed to fight decay. Those of my friends there will remember the obsessive brushing; the restriction on certain types of sweeties; and the super toothpaste. And we won, mostly.

Winston only had to get 3 caps and a few fillings. And he had to go under general anaesthesia again. But, our dentist is phenomenal! His staff is equally excellent. And even though he had major dental surgery there, he still looks forward to going into the dentist. Winston actually nags me to go.

So, when we went in a few weeks ago, Winston was well prepared. We used Sleeping Beauty as our reference. He would go in. His leg would get pricked. He would go to sleep. And the Great Wizard, Dr. Pechersky, would make his teeth stop hurting. He would wake up and get a diamond ring and a spider.

Things didn’t go according to plan. He woke up and there were no spiders. As he emerged from anaesthesia, I held him upright as he wobbled over to the prize table with great determination. He got his diamond ring. There were no spiders. He took home a snake instead. He collapsed into my arms clutching his snake. I drove him home. He slept and wobbled most of the day. He was mostly satisfied. More importantly, he still loves Dr. Pechersky. I mean, the man is a genius, he gives people silver teeth!

Today, a package I did not order arrived in the mail for Winston. It had Dr Pechersky’s return address. I thought - eeegads! A bill for something else the insurance didn’t pay.

But, no, it was a spider. The enclosed note read:

Dear Winston,

Since you were such a good buy at you last visit. And we didn’t have your favourite prize. We just got the spiders in last week, so we thought we would send you one.

Hope you’re brushing and flossing everyday!

Dr. Pechersky & Staff

Winston had forgotten all about the spider. He was content with his care and his participation in caring for his body. Children forget ---- sort of. He was okay with not having a spider. he was content with what he did get. What is important here is that they didn’t forget. They held his idea. They care enough about their relationship to him and his teeth to take an extra moment out of their day to honour and remember him. And all I can think is...

”How surreal. How bizarre. This small action resonates and echoes within the chambers of my secret heart. How thankful I am that my heart core burns with an undeniable belief that people in the world do still care. What a healing balm for this rage I’ve been writing. Perhaps this gentle holding, rocking and letting go has opened me to receive tangible actions which are in harmony with the things that prevent me from accepting serenity.

This is a truth. Decent people do care. Decent people make the smallest most inconsequential actions. Those tiny actions have power. Those irrelevent actions have the power to transform into a memory which changes another person’s life forever.

We all create our own reality. Lovely little pocket of the universe I create.....Hello! I love you! Thank you for being a small cosy place in which my children and I are safe, healthy, and comfortable. Thank you for blessing me!”

Those who want more info about The Great Wizard Pechersky will find him at:
Mark Pechersky, DMD
170 Jamison Lane
Monroeville, PA. 15146
(412) 823-2450

Saturday, September 15, 2007

Still. Born. Rising.

This rage of mine is so precious and irrefutable

I'm gonna hold each of her incarnations up
to the constellations like a 1977 mini-series

Weep Clutch my inner arms so the scars don't show
Call her true name out during my day sleep

Hold her fists until she walks alone away Wipe
my eyes Witness the devestating results of her natural


It Can Make You Crazy:

Jena Six

W. Virginia Black Woman Tortured

Dunbar Village

Glamour Magazine Editor's Racial Slurs

Katrina, Vick, And on and on and on

Friday, September 14, 2007

follicle garden

dead cells

play the dozens.

a convention of double helix

flaunt their antiparallel attitudes.

eat pi on my mind’s front porch

swing twist

bungee snarl

these ropes do anything

but nap? ridiculous

There always seems to be a hair poem at the end of my dreads. I'm always wondering why. Then, something like this comes along. "Natural hair Is a corporate No-No," according to a Glamour Magazine editor, "dreadlocks are dreadful." Black women in corporate America need to get rid of these "political hairstyles." She made the huge mistake of announcing this during a slide show for 100 women attorneys at a large firm.

So - good bye Glamour - I won't miss reading you because I never did.
Now, I know why!