sitting not on a
leather couch but the floor
with a slender black cat
poised on my lap.
Post-modernism,
Definitely with a sprinkle
of Harlem Renaissance
We are all
sticky with ganja leaves.
As we pass, the beat
slides in between you and she
than him and her
between or betwixt
no one is sure
But I tell you secret
no matter where the circle
is created
who is in it,
Left is always love
So make sure you are
my dear,
sitting next to me please
in the amnesia haze as we
fall into deep puddles
when our finger cross
and touch
I will pretend its
your hand in mine.
Because to take a
hold of another’s hand
is to break from living
individually Me.
It is to
momentarily entwine
your life with mines,
is to
promise, for a moment,
that you need
not face the
world alone
because once this circle
is broken.
no one is sure
between or betwixt
than him and her
slides in between
you and she
As we pass, the beat
We are all
sticky with ganja leaves.
Harlem Renaissance
Harlem Renaissance
Definitely with a sprinkle
of Post-modernism,
now is this jazz
sitting not on a
leather couch but the floor
with a slender black cat
poised on my lap.