Sunday, November 8, 2009

Ghosts & Echoes

February 6th was a really big day for me. Aside from performing at the Tremont Tavern for the first time (which has become a home away from home since), I published my second chapbook on that Tuesday ten months ago. I'm sure that you can gather it's called Ghosts & Echoes.

The book really was the result of performing live. A lot of times after I get off a stage, someone will ask me if I have a CD or any other products that I'm selling. After years of saying no, I wanted to change that. I've been working on a poetry manuscript for four years now, so I decided to take some of those pieces and combine them with some of the most popular poems I perform in my live repertoire. Thus, Ghosts & Echoes was born.

I'm happy to announce that I SOLD OUT of the initial run a few months ago. That was just one of the many blessings that have found me this year. With that said, I'm also very pleased to announce that the second printing is only a matter of days away.

I wanted to post a few of the poems you can find in the book. If you enjoy them, let me know, and if you're interested in buying a book, I can definitely let you know how we can make that happen. Hopefully, this second printing will open more doors and keep me out and about like the first one did. As is the case with most things in life, time's going to be the determining factor with this one.


Miracle Worker
Mama Dear is up before
the day, filling this house
with the smell of breakfast.
Lean strips of bacon scream.
A cube of butter sinks into
the navel of grits. The roaches
have become shadows behind
doors, underneath the couch
& television, & like a spell,
the house is blooming with life.
My uncles gather around
the crowded ebony table,
their eyes bloodshot, dry-rose lips hungry
for the weight of the day’s first cigarette.
The black ink is shaking out the sky
& we can forget that money seldom
stays here. For now, we have this meal
to share & carry in the maroon chapels
of our stomachs, & Mama Dear
has woven her magic again.

Moonlight rests in the brunette
garland of your hair. Outside,
the first cool hours of morning
have arrived & your eyelids are moving
to meet one another & shut.
As I watch sleep summon you,
every damp organ inside me screams
for you to stay & dream beside me.
My clumsy mouth knows no incantations
to keep you in this bed. I know that soon
you will rise to traipse out into that black,
cloud-speckled haze alone, leaving the space
between these ivory-painted walls silent.
How hungry I am to trade my warmth
with you, to barter with you, to feed
comfort to your still body. How my heart’s song
wants to soften into a light massage,
a steady feather stroke against the muscles
in your back. Look at us – you are nestled
comfortably on the bulk of my pillows, drifting
on the hilly bodies of my blankets,
eyes hidden behind the beige curtains
of your flesh, & here I am awake,
carrying this want in the milk of my bones,
& with these weary, bloodshot, open eyes
I am dreaming of you.

The Sea
Even the silence
has tumbled out of this room
making its exodus underneath
the heavy ivory door.
It is just you & I on the cusp of sleep.
My hand against the beach
that is your stomach, brushing over warm skin.
For this moment your breath, your covered ribs,
your bone & body are partially mine.
I press my fingers against your abdomen.
The tide is rising behind these muscles.
The sea in you is singing my name,
each syllable aloft in melody.
My desire is a wildfire – untamed, enveloped
in its longing to drop anchor inside you
& holler back at the Heavens
that this is where I belong.

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