ANOTHER WORK IN PROGRESS: This one is for Blue, who reminded me about the nature of muses.

Muses Are Never Quiet (for CF-M)

I woke up looking for my old muses,
two women, one silently plotting
her return, the other gone to repose.
Woke up, mouth drenched
with the need to sing them back.

This morning I needed Lauryn Hill,
Ready or not, here I come
you can’t hide, gonna find you
and make you want me.
Tonight I need Nina Simone,
Black is the color
of my true love’s hair…

And I get a reminder by mail
that these muses aren’t quiet,
they’re always on,
humming subsonic,
and if I listen carefully,
I’ll still be able to hear Nina’s
rings tapping on the piano keys,
Lauryn do-woppin’ on a summer
NYC corner afternoon, better
than a Supreme.

I turn out the lights, match strike
flame shimmer dancing in summer heat,
like Mississippi (goddamn).
Candle wax conjuring,
bringing those women back
into my life, those songs
filling me with these words,
the admonition to move forward,
and look back only when
I need reminding why I
wrote this in the first place.

Even now, my mouth is wet,
my soul singing to itself.


BLUE said…
You'd better work it, HBW! Now if Nina's rings could talk (and you'd better let 'em), poems would have some real f*cked up (in a good way) high notes to squall. [NOTE: This is a seed and your cue to write that poem.] Loads of light to you for letting yourself follow the muses ... see you tonight. ~BLUE
Anonymous said…
Your writing continues to grow. I thought the poetry in Better to Travel was incredible, but what you have been posting to this site is superb.


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