Poem #7: Poem for James Baldwin

I.
When I see him,
I first take notice
Of his flying saucer eyes,
shooting across the galaxy
like Hale-bopp;
Knotted, coarse hair;
And deep mahogony skin,
With a bit of shine.
I hear his remarkably sweet voice,
Gentle, and easily brushed away
By the wind opening up Heaven's Gate.

The White asked
How was it being born so disadvantaged--
As a homosexual?
As a negro?
And impoverished?

His starry eyes edged a bit,
And laughingly,
Yet half serious,
He replied--
It's like I hit the jackpot!


II.
Niggas been disadvantaged
Mentally, physically, and financially
For centuries--
So we KNOW how to cope
And make 12 bucks last a month
If need be.
And if need be,
We still keep our lights on
By suckin white dick
from married men on the Upper East Side
for extra cash.
The only rule being
not to use your fuckin' teeth.
And goin' on faith that everything
will be alright.
Because shit can't get no worse, right?

Sundays we sing in a four-octave range
why we are happy
being so damned black and blue
and how we shall Overcome.
And the answer is simple--
because we never had a pot to piss in
or a window to throw it out.
When you ain't got nuttin',
you ain't missin' nuttin'.