Littered with mounds. Rise, Spirits, rise. Uncoil. Break the soil –

The bread of the dead, the salt of the earth. Rise

And flow like mercurial contours on a midnight sky. Cry.

Till the tears solidify. Fly, Spirits, till you become a song.

Eye to eye. Right to wrong. Untie pain. Dance again

Till juices jive down your scarred backbones.

This is the other world – live – and yet home.

This sound electrifies, soars on the edge of the head.

Waken the dead and tell them it’s here – ‘it’s here’,

For duppies to wind and spirits to near home – at last.

To brutify, then purify, then reunify the past.

Rise, Malcolm, the Jews, the blues and the Soledad brothers.

Shout. Bleed. Breathe. Heal. Shout. Breathe. Heal. Bleed.

I swear I saw another slave freed, its soul freed, it gather speed,

Pushing me over the edge of the ledge, dredging the graveyards,

The Spirits – Charlie’s playing cards on the tomb, a dead man’s womb.

Don’t you get it. It’s genetic. A musical hallucinogenic. Insane –

The music of love through the instruments of pain,

Shooting from the lip, from the tip of the tongues of the wronged.

Hang on, hang on with your finger tips. Pray you don’t slip,

’Cause we climbing the timing, the landscape of mine.

Turn this poem sideways, it’s like a New York skyline,

A state of mind.

And through to the solo light. Right. Solo.

How does it go? It glides like an eagle inches from the waves,

With a rush that sounds like caves should sound like.

It rips through all mind-binds, breaks all seals, tears all seems – seams,

Chilled as fresh-iced screams, angry as sweated dreams.

It bites like a baby, kicks like a dog, slicker than a card trick.

Demons spit and twist as spirits hit notes high (ha!) and snare.

This is where contrasts explode and it’s natural to find

Sharpness next to curves, next to shadows, next to verve,

And new definitions of time. It is the blood of the vein.

The music of love through the instruments of pain.

Hot cold shy bold rock rolled blue soul. Rise!

Makes an old man young, a young girl old. Rise!

It’s a slick wild blast, cast from chains of slaves.

I found my jazz. Rise. I found my jazz. Rise.

I found my jazz and was saved.

Rise, Spirits.

Invisible Kisses

Invisible Kisses

If there was ever one

Whom when you were sleeping

Would wipe your tears

When in dreams you were weeping;

Who would offer you time

When others demand;

Whose love lay more infinite

Than grains of sand.

If there was ever one

To whom you could cry;

Who would gather each tear

And blow it dry;

Who would offer help

On the mountains of time;

Who would stop to let each sunset

Soothe the jaded mind.

If there was ever one

To whom when you run

Will push back the clouds