For Robert

 

I felt the vibrations of your ink

your pen shook earth

shaking volumes of words

from off the shelf

I saw the pages falling

with letters scattering randomly like dandelion seeds

tapping the fertile soil

of my creative womb

and re-birthing poetically

into new cipher

moving gracefully

to an uncertain end

the muses from Langston’s porch

were pleased

they enjoyed the vibe

the pickled okra

and impromptu walks

the sweltering ride on the A train from

Lennox and 125th

to Nostrand avenue

the surprise mango tea

and baby red velvet

Brooklyn’s finest keeping vigilant watch

on surreptitious corner activities

where everybody is somebody

even the nobodies

even me

walking

looking

searching

finally finding peace

when we sat on Langston’s stoop

and played

like children

running after verbs and adjectives

down the sidewalk

duck duck goose

you’re it

no more chalk lines

only pens to paper

writing our letters carefully

and sending  prayers up

to the universe

we climbed up Langston’s steps

playing hopscotch

with words that dreamed

of what tomorrow would bring

hoping for better

leaning on the patina rails

looking up into the heavens

as the grime from the sidewalk

settled on our shoelaces

and we remembered that day

on sacred ground.