Langston at Clemens, Hughes at Twain

---- puddinhead wilson

Langston was birthed through a Scottish effete.
He reminds of a father, towhead, 
original dreamers ohioan greats 
rivers to Missouri and Bethlehem.

Profits vanquish confeds the theatre writhes
Take it to a sugar bowl grind rice.
Say that the New Year began in your eyes.
February, February, alive 

in May, when wildflowers take wreathes
the letters click oer the Mono lake flies
sealed in the purest of leather by wings
when thought is suspended looks genius

So to those cross trains and hoods of wire.
Albert of Alberto: torture me ire.

Dreamers, the Hood is a Given

I noted not many will bow to the hood.
Movements required masters as proof.
They do not stop for licenses, others do
For they have born no sacrifices for you.

They play doctor, priest, and circumstance.
Burning syllabi for venture time worse
Create coffers of death cries and dances
Shapiro said it's entertainment and can

Say it is possible.  Say it must be.
Never saying no it is officious
Love is omnipotent when its spontaneous
The breast of childhood that milks no muse

Lives by love by love alone and its home
A house in a sanctuary - poem.

Memorious Dreamers Remember the Bow

"I have found no cure for the sick."  

William Carlos Williams 

though I speak of how now the plunder bows

your hearts have run threads through to reason

the pulpits have asked for your reason yet row

raise mastheads to beaters scurry when on

you've learned them to speak in compound redress

that fills up the voters with dream power

taught a few tools how to wrench and address

the fact that it's still taking over. mac tec

automatic frills on the haywire

fringe dating classics as nullified true

what tolls bells will mire in attire

tune forks to the palette of esquire

were subscribers when time asked a minute

your dreams are something no one can trigger

for arranging the table en plein air

with many worlds made one

roll the universe into a ball

like the poet Marvell

for beauty, love, or splendor

no artist or poet is god

but to look through the eyelashes

partially closed

the leaves pressed to the walls

look as though painted by someone

Langston Jazz Poetry

In a manner of speaking, Langston
the cherubic brow, dead center vision,
a custom for tipping, of history,
across the breast and shoulders holds on

An arm aloft the ocean and river
the hand flexing powerfully anxious
tempered by the cacophonous hours
rendered by the time taking-- burdensome.

For Joplin for Harlem for Africa
a full season on Broadway, editions,
translations, appearances, and bastions
once again as a smile held ages

Where music has gone let it go always
The river and its broad strokes delighted.

La flor de mi alma es de amor

La flor de mi alma es de amor

Petalos tejen el aire de luz

Miles de ojos sin vista ni faz

Se duplican a magnificarlo

Puntas de la lluvia y mano del sol

Acaricias del rocio cubre

Detalles de las ojas se cumplen

Vueltas del purpureo aflorecen

Las rutas de los rayos persiguen

Muestra del imagen sin origen

Taller entre barro y alambre

Atraz de su busqueda vuele libre

Y hecho de ardores envueltos

Alma de amor esculto en adorno

Yo letreo este verso a mi Padre

Yo letreo este verso a mi Padre

Que sea de su forma buena y bien

Y suene de sus pasos y los pies

Bajo su Imagen empieza a Ver

Que resuena su palabra en Voz

Lo dulce, lo sabio, lo celeste.

Hoy entra el monte a sus Alturas

Envuelta el nube sea su rostro

Plateado de visperas el momento.

El monumento sonrie se ve

Entre sombra y sol su ventura

La lleva y pesa a la soledad

La une al amor y la mansa

De susurros al alma, Poeta.