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.
