angel-man

(for Omar)


burden
like gravity.

memories
self-select the bruises.

heavy breaths
sound
off.

back
locks to bed.

tears hang
on the cliff of eyelids.

and while
one man tries harder
not to explode
struggles to secure his cool
insulates
whatever ways
his moon cries
when crescent
another man
an angel still
offers permission
to break

and whatever was heavy
becomes alleviated

whatever was bruised
becomes the color of water

and there is the prospect of joy
in these pains
that well up to fall
forming meaning
where poets fail
to find words

tears
interpret the feeling
no song
has been written
for this acute pain

this Other man
this beautiful angel-man
soft and necessary as air
strong
because someone needs him
to be
simply says "hey"

one word
and whatever tone
adding onto the meaning
become the prayer
said moons ago
for this perfect moment
this time to cry
tonight the hourglass
bleeds faster than the wounds

tears be the salve
he feel the flow
on his skin
weakened from drought

across the miles
angel-man holds
this human dam
of a man
celebrated for strength
that has almost killed him
helps him lay burdens down
break
to begin again

perfect timing
this angel-man's "hey"
so he lets go
to let his heart
open up
again

sexy in caricature

(for belasco, james caldwell, jr, shon gales)

the contours are striking
my own hands
are unforgivingly critical
fingers have become over-familiarized
with the texture and bump
of lite hair, vein-river limbs
woolly hair that locs effortlessly
tight tummy
holding a trail of tears
evidence of loneliness

have been described as a man
with eyes that cut and pierce
as passionately as they smile
or cry
and i am not sure i like
being seen
so naked

sometimes when out...
people stare
I'm left wondering
if I'm known, want to be known
or an indexical trace to somebody
beautiful
or maybe
just some kind of tragic wonderment
framed
some exhibition seen
having realized
shame is no hiding place
for those who live
bravely and bare

muscular and top heavy
i smile through imperfections
assimilate gym workouts
i don't have
as often as is believed
i no longer have a boy's body
loving this evolution
into becoming a man
a dom, some daddy's papa
hoping to again
submit to loving

amusing
the way others see me
especially
the brothas from and roundabout Memphis
who draw me best
make me feel most beautiful
when i don't see it
or see myself
clearly

so i strive
to see myself
the way their pens see me
sexual, object of desire
inking myself
deeper than my baritone
leaving lasting impressions
on and/or in
memory, flesh, possibility
and there on page
smiling back at myself

i find joy
in this
deferred self-pleasuring
am liking this existential
being in somethingness
so(ul)fully hue-man
sexy in caricature