Book Read Free

The Collected Poetry of Nikki Giovanni

Page 21

by Nikki Giovanni


  Did we meet when we were only a dream…of each other…Or did we meet with the cries…of labor…or fever…or no work this week

  Do we know…because of the change of names…each other…Or do we know…because of an exchange of glances…that each is a bridge…free standing…stretched between the good years and the bad

  It’s hard to remember…when we met…I am constantly being introduced…to a you…I never knew…I offer you the same…

  Hello

  Love: Is a Human Condition

  An amoeba is lucky it’s so small…else its narcissism would lead to war…since self-love seems so frequently to lead to self-righteousness…

  I suppose a case could be made…that there are more amoebas than people…that they comprise the physical majority…and therefore the moral right…But luckily amoebas rarely make television appeals to higher Gods…and baser instincts…so one must ask if the ability to reproduce oneself efficiently has anything to do with love…

  The night loves the stars as they play about the Darkness…the day loves the light caressing the sun…We love…those who do…because we live in a world requiring light and Darkness…partnership and solitude…sameness and difference…the familiar and the unknown…We love because it’s the only true adventure…

  I’m glad I’m not an amoeba…there must be more to all our lives than ourselves…and our ability to do more of the same…

  Sky Diving

  I hang on the edge

  of this universe

  singing off-key

  talking too loud

  embracing myself

  to cushion the fall

  I shall tumble

  into deep space

  never in this form

  or with this feeling

  to return to earth

  It is not tragic

  I will spiral

  through that Black hole

  losing skin limbs

  internal organs

  searing

  my naked soul

  Landing

  in the next galaxy

  with only my essence

  embracing myself

  as

  I dream of you

  A Journey

  It’s a journey…that I propose…I am not the guide…nor technical assistant…I will be your fellow passenger…

  Though the rail has been ridden…winter clouds cover…autumn’s exuberant quilt…we must provide our own guideposts…

  I have heard…from previous visitors…the road washes out sometimes…and passengers are compelled…to continue groping…or turn back…I am not afraid…

  I am not afraid…of rough spots…or lonely times…I don’t fear…the success of this endeavor…I am Ra…in a space…not to be discovered…but invented…

  I promise you nothing…I accept your promise…of the same we are simply riding…a wave…that may carry…or crash…

  It’s a journey…and I want…to go…

  Resignation

  I love you

  because the Earth turns round the sun

  because the North wind blows north

  sometimes

  because the Pope is Catholic

  and most Rabbis Jewish

  because winters flow into springs

  and the air clears after a storm

  because only my love for you

  despite the charms of gravity

  keeps me from falling off this Earth

  into another dimension

  I love you

  because it is the natural order of things

  I love you

  like the habit I picked up in college

  of sleeping through lectures

  or saying I’m sorry

  when I get stopped for speeding

  because I drink a glass of water

  in the morning

  and chain-smoke cigarettes

  all through the day

  because I take my coffee Black

  and my milk with chocolate

  because you keep my feet warm

  though my life a mess

  I love you

  because I don’t want it

  any other way

  I am helpless

  in my love for you

  It makes me so happy

  to hear you call my name

  I am amazed you can resist

  locking me in an echo chamber

  where your voice reverberates

  through the four walls

  sending me into spasmatic ecstasy

  I love you

  because it’s been so good

  for so long

  that if I didn’t love you

  I’d have to be born again

  and that is not a theological statement

  I am pitiful in my love for you

  The Dells tell me Love

  is so simple

  the thought though of you

  sends indescribably delicious multitudinous

  thrills throughout and through-in my body

  I love you

  because no two snowflakes are alike

  and it is possible

  if you stand tippy-toe

  to walk between the raindrops

  I love you

  because I am afraid of the dark

  and can’t sleep in the light

  because I rub my eyes

  when I wake up in the morning

  and find you there

  because you with all your magic powers were

  determined that

  I should love you

  because there was nothing for you but that

  I would love you

  I love you

  because you made me

  want to love you

  more than I love my privacy

  my freedom my commitments

  and responsibilities

  I love you ’cause I changed my life

  to love you

  because you saw me one friday

  afternoon and decided that I would

  love you

  I love you I love you I love you

  I Wrote a Good Omelet

  I wrote a good omelet…and ate a hot poem…

  after loving you

  Buttoned my car…and drove my coat home…in the rain…

  after loving you

  I goed on red…and stopped on green…floating

  somewhere in between…

  being here and being there…

  after loving you

  I rolled my bed…turned down my hair…slightly confused

  but…I don’t care…

  Laid out my teeth…and gargled my gown…then I

  stood…and laid me down…

  to sleep…

  after loving you

  Three/Quarters Time

  Dance with me…dance with me…we are the song…we

  are the music…Dance with me…

  Waltz me…twirl me…do-si-do please…peppermint twist

  me…philly

  Squeeze

  Cha cha cha…tango…two step too…

  Cakewalk…charleston…bougaloo…

  Dance with me…dance with me…all night long…

  We are the music…we are the song…

  Cancers

  (not necessarily a love poem)

  Cancers are a serious condition…attacking internal organs

  …eating

  them away…or clumping lumps…together…

  The blood vessels carry…cancerous cells…to all body parts

  …cruising

  would be the term…but this is not necessarily a love poem…

  Cancer is caused…by…

  the air we breathe

  the food we eat

  the water we drink

  Indices are unusually high…in cities that have baseball teams

  …or people…

  Coffee…milk…saccharine

  cigarettes…sun…and birth control

  devices�


  are among the chief offenders…

  Monthly phenomena stopped…internally…will

  only lead…

  to shock syndrome…

  What indeed…porcelana…does a woman…want…

  Cancers are…

  the new plague

  the modern black death

  all that is unknown

  yet

  I have a cancer…in my heart…I’m told…on

  knowledgeable authority…

  it is not possible

  For the heart we have…

  cardiac arrest…and outright attacks…

  holes in valves…and valve stoppage…

  constricted vessels…and nefarious air

  bubbles…

  But then…my doctor never saw you…and doesn’t believe…

  in the zodiac…

  A Word for Me…Also

  Vowels…are a part of the English language…There are five in the alphabet…though only one…between lovers…

  My father…you must understand…was Human…My mother…a larva…and while I concede most Celestial Beings…have taken the bodies of the majority…I chose differently…No one understands me…at all…except the clouds…and grasses…and waters cresting…against the Heavens…

  I just don’t know…what to do…with myself…I have forgotten the names…I feared being called…I have rested the burdens…of my will…I inhale the illogic…of the moment…exuding inert emotions…I am still…beside you…happily confused…

  Words…are the foundation of thought…Many people think they think…but cannot put it…into words…My grandmother thought…she could drive a car…too…though she couldn’t do Reverse…There is a word for me…also…

  I Am She

  (for Nancy)

  I am she…making rainbows…in coffee cups…watching fish jump…after midnight…in my dreams…

  On the stove…left front burner…is the stew…already chewed…certain to burn…as I dream…of waves…of nothingness…

  Floating to shore…riding a low moon…on a slow cloud…I am she…who writes…the poems…

  The Room With the Tapestry Rug

  And when she was lonely…she would go into the room…where all who lived…knew her well…

  Her hands would touch…her lips…silently moving…would punctuate the talk…with a smile…or a frown…an occasional “Oh My”…

  If it was cold…she would wrap herself…in the natted blue sweater…knitted by a grandmother…so many years ago…If warm…the windows were opened…to allow the wind…to partake of their pleasure…

  Holidays were never sad…seasons in fact…unchanging…Family and friends…lovers and longings…rested…waited…never to betray…never to leave her…

  Her books…her secret life…in the room with the tapestry rug…

  Wild Flowers

  We are like a field…of wild flowers…unpollinated…swaying against the wind…

  Dew sparkling…buds bursting…we await the drying day…Let’s not gain…the notice of the woman…with the large straw basket…

  Autumn will come…anyway…Let us continue…our dance…beneath the sun…

  Love Thoughts

  Planes fly patterns…rather than land…on icy runways…

  I ran a pattern…around you…

  Captains cut their engines…to passively ride storm waves…

  You put me…on hold…

  Only clear skies…and still waters…

  Can support engines of displacement

  Aretha said it best…in Lady Soul…Ain’t No Way…(for

  me to love you)…

  If you don’t…let me…

  You Were Gone

  You were gone

  like a fly lighting

  on that wall

  with a spider in the corner

  You were gone

  like last week’s paycheck

  for this week’s bills

  You were gone

  like the years between

  twenty-five and thirty

  as if somehow

  You never existed

  and if it wouldn’t be

  for the gray hairs

  I’d never know that

  You had come

  A Song for New-Ark

  When I write I like to write…in total silence…Maybe total…silence…is not quite accurate…I like to listen to the notes breezing by my head…the grunting of the rainbow…as she bends…on her journey from Saturn…to harvest the melody…

  There is no laughter…in the city…no joy…in the sheer delight…of living…City sounds…are the cracking of ice in glasses…or hearts in despair…The burglar alarms…or boredom…warning of illicit entry…The fire bells proclaiming…yet another home…or job…or dream…has deserted the will…to continue…The cries…of all the lonely people…for a drum…a tom-tom…some cymbal…some/body…to sing for…

  I never saw old/jersey…or old/ark…Old/ark was a forest…felled for concrete…and asphalt…and bridges to Manhattan…Earth acres that once held families…of deer…fox…chipmunks…hawks…forest creatures…and their predators…now corral business…men and women…artists…and intellectuals…People…and their predators…under a banner of neon…graying the honest Black…cradling the stars above…and the earth below…turning to dust…white shirts…lace curtains at the front window…automobiles lovingly polished…Dreams…encountering racist resistance…New-Ark knows too much pain…sees too many people who aren’t special…watches the buses daily…the churches on Sunday…the bars after midnight…disgorge the unyoung…unable…unqualified…unto the unaccepting…streets…I lived…one summer…in New-Ark…New-Jersey…on Belleville Avenue…Every evening…when the rats left the river…to visit the central ward…Anthony Imperiali…and his boys…would chunk bullets…at the fleeing mammals…refusing to recognize…the obvious…family…ties…I napped…to the rat-tat-tat…rat-tat-tat…wondering why…we have yet to learn…rat-tat-tats…don’t even impress…rats…

  When I write I want to write…in rhythm…regularizing the moontides…to the heart/beats…of the twinkling stars…sending an S.O.S…. to day trippers…urging them to turnback…toward the Darkness…to ride the night winds…to tomorrow…I wish I understood…bird…Birds in the city talk…a city language…They always seem…unlike humans…to have something…useful…to say…Other birds…like Black americans…a century or so ago…answer back…with song…I wish I could be a melody…like a damp…gray…feline fog…staccatoing…stealthily…over the city…

  Occasional Poems

  1991–1998

  Poem of Angela Yvonne Davis

  (October 16, 1970)

  i move on feeling and have learned to distrust those who don’t

  i move in time and space determined by time and space feeling

  that all is natural and i am

  a part of it and “how could you?” they ask you had everything

  but the men who killed the children in birmingham aren’t on

  the most wanted list and the men who killed schwerner, chaney

  and Goodman aren’t on the most wanted list and the list of names

  unlisted could and probably would include most of our “finest

  Leaders” who are WANTED in my estimation for at least serious

  questioning so we made a list and listed it

  “but you had everything,” they said and i asked “quakers?” and i asked

  “jews?” and i asked “being sent from home?” my mother told me the world

  would one day speak my name then she recently suggested angela Yvonne

  why don’t you take up sports like your brother and i sais “i don’t run

  as well as he” but they told me over and over again “you can have them

  all at your feet” though i knew they were at my feet when i was born

  and the heavens opened up sending the same streak of lightning through

  my mother as thr
ough new york when i was arrested

  and i saw my sisters and brothers and i heard them tell the young

  racists “you can’t march with us” and i thought i can’t march at all

  and i looked at the woman whose face was kissed by night as she said

  “angela you shall be free” and i thought i won’t be free even if i’m set

  loose, the game is set the tragedy written my part is captive

  i thought of betty shabazz and the voices who must have said “aren’t you

  sort of glad it’s over?” with that stupidity that fails to notice

  it will never be over for some of us and our children and our

  grandchildren. betty can no more forget that staccato than i the pain

  in jonathan’s face or the love in george’s letters. and i remember

  the letter where i asked “why do’t you write Beverly axelrod and become

  rich and famous” and his complete reply

  i remember water and sky and paris and wanting someone to be mine

  a german? but the world is in love with germans so why not? though

 

‹ Prev