Twentieth century writer/poet Langston Hughes wrote “Drum” in 1931:

Drum

Bear in mind
That death is a drum
Beating forever
Till the last worms come
To answer its call,
Till the last stars fall,
Until the last atom
Is not atom at all,
Until time is lost
And there is no air
And space itself
Is nothing nowhere,
Death is a drum,
A signal drum,
Calling life
To come!
Come!
Come!


I’ve read of death as the “Great Equalizer”; I’ve also read of death as the ultimate dehumanization. Death beats through our veins not as a drum, but as Hughes twice points out, “Death is a drum” (ll. 2, 13) (italics added). If death is a drum, then what is life? Does the heart beat for death? Is death, as opposed to life, what keeps us alive? These questions presuppose definitions of both “life” and “death," when they need not separate analyses per se; give ‘em thin and thick readings. View 'em as intersecting, signifying entities . . .

palm2palm
my 2 hands meet
1 life
1 death
2 allies in alienation
joined 2 pray
4 what or 4 who?
2 what or 2 whom?
joined conversely in conversation.
life greeting death
like the pain in surrender
they meet 2nite
like peace in the struggle
in the 4m of a thought
a wish
a hope
2gether lifeanddeath
handinhand
4ever

12-15-07
4-1-08

A tribute—No—Felicitations! for Amy Lowell and Gertrude Stein

Fierce Females
(Free from Foremothers’ Fallopians)
Fight
for Freedom,
falling further forward
from Forced Fragility & Frilly Frostings
— a Foreshadowing of Femininity
— a Fierce Female Figure
Fabricated
Formed
for Future Feminists
— Future Fighters
and even Flimsy Flibbertigibbets (Fie!)
or Ferociously Fanged Feminazis feeding from Fantastical Fratricidal Fictions (Fie!)

Oh, for the Future Feminists!
for Future Feminists!

3.14.08

Shall I accept it -- a statement, not a question

We can try to become who/what we know we’re not. And we can use society as our excuse to fulfill that "Professional Instinct". . . or not. We can use our intellect in spite of its seeming sagacity to give the appearance of authenticity, the impression of compassion, or the form of friendliness; this would determine nothing, everything, and anything . . .


Everything buried beneath a sheet
Waiting to sleep on this street
Cheat
Everything in the soul
What role do we play?
To Live? To Decay?
If we had Anythings
Everythings, what would they be
Life? Death? Liberty?
Why not ask for it all?
Too much gall?
Or should we ask with no regret?
Fight for it; they get upset.
But do we must
Before we bust
Lust or
Turn to Dust.
Laugh aloud, be proud
Wonder what to do
Be You?
Be Me?
Be Them?
Be It?
Be Anythings
Everythings buried beneath a sheet

1-7-08