problem inventors

in all manners that justified their freedom

Dad was a slave, no dead of night to bring him back Date flower, my leek-root grandmother was all that stood Mother expecting craved green fruit Adobe wind-screens, under oil lamp Black fingernails of her son Her father out to sea or the peasants revolt His thick hair and large eyes I take after So I was told It was the wind that raised me four out of five The world an embarrassment through and through Some read sinner in my eyes and move on Some read idiot on my lips and move on I shall never feel sorry Brilliance in the crack of dawn In the dew that pearl my brow Drops of blood Star or shade Like no hangdog with a loose tongue I’ve always come a-panting