Works Presented

Voices from Rwanda		Kisses In Blue Water
Nothing Moves 2Day		Running
That Sunday Evening		4 A Father
There the Black People Go		Caring 4 the Heavyweight
The Little Boy Next Door		Grandmother

Note: (000, YYMMDD) = the approximate Yahoo Message Board entry number and date.
Spelling, punctuation, grammar, and line phrasing are as originally posted by the author.

they were 14 in a country that killed children 4 sport in a country steeped in a perverted macsulinity they were 14 in a land where blood waz colloquial & women had no meaning they were 14 taking gold from severed hands & wandering the floating countryside adorned in death.

"they were high when they came in the bushes they painted their faces their eyes dreaming they presented their hands az choices & 1 held death & the other eternal absence the radios siren 2 siren with static worshipped the killing & in that screaming treble sadness tilled the land & in that procession time waz a rotting corpse in the mission yard each minute a meticulous dissection of the dead & vulgar homeland they kicked the babies with their boots & hit them az if they were men i hated the roads that gave them sure footing & the everpresent indifferent air the seasons beautiful & pronounced behind the bellhung decaying bodies it waz a madness examined & let loose it waz a madness constructed & taxed & in the end there were no children".

"he looked like my son the way he leaned in the doorway half shadow half my mother hiz outline in the late evening sun like r country desperate & cool he waz so ordinary at times hiz anger almost practiced & read even after the rapes outside even after hurling bones in jest even after denying the old woman water hiz smooth face in the doorway waz like a placid moon in a swirling red universe hiz eyes beautiful & precise like my son hiz ebony adolescent hands like a uniform all these kids wear like u could love them all if anything at all could stop them & erase the holocaust they create".

"i saw death 2day & he looked right at me like we had shared a summer of music or had known someone in common it waz a familiarity that countrymen have that a township shares i saw death 2day waiting at the police depot casually sitting tapping the bench examining the large warm room he waz a stranger who 1 knew waz well traveled he waz comfortable & patient he sat in the waiting area without fear checking the creases in hiz linen shirt turning hiz watch from 1 side of hiz wrist 2 the other he nodded at the women winked at the children shared a laugh with the busy constable & i thought it strange that even death would laugh in this large warm quiet room seeing that i had traveled on a trail of bones 2 report such an inoffensive matter az a disappearance in the midst of genocide yet death waz congenial & patient & among the thinning crowds he recognized me".

"the machete iz an interesting weapon it iz almost a half moon fallen 2 earth when swung it trails light like thrusting a hand from the sea i've seen it eat deep in2 men & be bloody & panting i've seen it slice so correctly across the hand length pan of a small woman's shoulders that the technician in me envied such effortless craft & such work iz like the corona of the sun it iz without beginning like a beast built 4 killing not like the gun whose distance & shot leaves 1 longing in the howling shadows of night the machete translates bone un2 yo bones flesh un2 yo flesh it shatters the intellect with its speed & intoxicates the efficient & shadowless body"

Romus © Copyright, 1999

in the intricate blue of infinite emptiness through the endless vacancies of a tuesday night loneliness in the alluvial silence bordered in shadows where memory turns like slow jazz through late streets in the absences that are the hearts of shadows i wait 4 yo call here where night sky iz az tall az my sorrow & each searching star shone blind & bright & unwanted

the city tinted fallen across a grid carelessly touching & being touched where are u? call while the freeways rise in privacy` call while theive's eyes have not catalogued the city call in2 my dreams where i swear u hold me & we did not part in anger there where ever u r opening doors & closing them behind u understand that i am sorry & sometimes silly & am very lonely without u sitting in my apartment pooling kisses in blue water

Romus © Copyright, 1999

nothing moves 2day not the calculations that draw the highways across my memory nor the high pines that witness loneliness in these snow hushed mountains ahead there are drifts 15 ft deep that separate here & the world & that whiteness like death total & tall & frozen & everywhere draws me in silence like a flooding sleep

traveling through nights across the back sides of stars in country so vast that men 4get their orgins & believe they have always been there in country so wide that the sky seems 2 be contained within the horizon & now a slow universe of snow the wheels whine & both rig & i r desperate

but somewhere back i crossed a road clear az children singing & against that 4ever silver of moon & snow it amazed me but that road went east i assume & the sun haz not risen 4 3 weeks now & the dark gray goes mile by mile in residual alchemy in2 starless night

but i among the many men cancelled in2 pellmelling frozen whiteness who pull loads across this great winter must deliver myself & though the season may not allow seeing that we all r stifled night building around us like a coming blindness i say i will come somehow in death or life in springtime or in shadow

Romus © Copyright, 1999

i would run & find myself at the 13 mile marker golden between golden fields on roads that stretched themselves 2 give the bountiful land rest & my streaking self would be the difference between here & there & with each stride i would harvest myself gather a piece of the earth az the world chanted az the almond groves straightened their rows in ritual it would be dusk & oh, what elegance what power i knew what fire i shared with all extraordinary machinery i would be chasing the sun & be every bit its equal i would be jesus on the long road 2 nazereth & there flying there beyond all tangible things & there chasing dusk across the enflamed planet i would hope to leap in2 the heart of the sun i would hope 2 be resurrected i would hope 2 never know the night & be consumed in the holocaust

Romus © Copyright, 1999

i waz at the airport awaiting a flight thinking of king protests marching through the selma of my mind i saw delirium on all the faces i saw people removing their eyes in denial & walking from dark in2 dark i saw the blacks keloided marked indiscriminately in brutal memory & while waiting looking 4 god in the high ceiling a skycap hurrying by stopped & pushed hiz radio toward me something about 4 black girls in alabama & an explosion & in the churning mosaic of people i leaned back til the sky shone in my eyes

Romus © Copyright, 1999

no u cannot protect him cannot carry him heavy az he iz solid az he iz loud az he iz he iz yo son yo contribution 2 the enormous world he iz the speed the quickness the insolence & outlandish magic & wonderful mystery of dawn the incantation of hiz birth pronounced hiz freedom & drew hiz flare from the wildness often implicit in great men's eyes the fascination & unwarranted spinning of men shirtless in the city summers who outholler traffic who outblack deep shadows & obliviously stroll through a cacophony of scheduled alarms he yells & the city yells back both of them grinning standing against the weather no u cannot protect him cannot prescribe hiz movement when the girls call & moonlight iz lazy across their faces & their hips hide velvet pleasures out there hiz shadow imposes itself across the electric avenues close 2 hiz face hiz hand can cover the sun & u watch him longing in the deep wet kiss of hiz youth & he iz yo child & though u disagree & warn him of dangers harboring unused absences behind dark doorways hidden & greedy along the night avenues & though u bade him be careful still the iron of hiz shoulders iz impressive & hiz height so sudden & pleasing hiz eyes clear full of future not aware of any loss & u know that this iz hiz summer az u watch him leaving the yard unencumbered in perfect skin

Romus © Copyright, 1999

there the black people r spangled amidst the jazz sunday clad in their finest smiles delicate & slow mired in the morning miles the wealth of them the tender eyed promises millions moving through muted manhattan in unrepentive style oh, there the black people r a cacophony scaffolding a hundred stories high beaded in whistles & hoots marking time in alligator boots in the most outrageous hats & suits high hipped & big thighed gregarious with great white teeth sistuhs in a wreath of hotcombed hair colognes & powders purpling the air with haleahujahs at the hem & the jumping jacket tails they wear scornfully scholarly breathing their sidity sighs christening concrete & marching up marble & checking out the world with slow yellow eyes yes, there the black people r & there they go descending on the city like evening waking up still glass eyeing the reflections az the pass turning out turnstiles & legislating loudness & alarms embroidering the blvd with their charms in unmatched elegance choreographed & remarkable honed & exact in their wild & winding show the big legged women & the tall dark men stopping traffic az the flow & further bedazzling the bedazzled pirouetting corners stepping off curves moving in the out doors caravaning in cadilacs & acting az they act & searing the city so & depending on what u know being beckoned by the frenzy of them standing called & accused by the beautifully alive blacks trousers creased & ankles thin on the cusp of that night that they move like music in & depending on how steep yo sin or where yo matters lay if u simply adore the things those people say if u proudly herald what & where u have been u would cast a sound in2 the cacophony of their splendid din u would grab a horn or hurl a holler & throw yo music in

Romus © Copyright, 1999

he fought 83 professional fights lost nearly half of them hiz skin a dyed oiled leather covers him like a moan scars screaming regret across the eyes vision moving slow across the fading targets he iz flesh pounded out from legislated beatings the placid demeanor the small earthquake in hiz shaking hand he reaches 4 u the gesture inches illustrating the sweep & sharp yell fallen from a bellowing vocabulary words & roughshoding dismantled levers amputated from great machines individual letters that hold no kinship in understanding blows acquiesced in2 short desperate breaths he needs something u move quickly he iz az large az the recliner "what?" u say u lean in2 hiz confusion "yes?" u say something in him iz dropping words something 2 thick fingered 2 handle fine things something guessing at shadows something mixing a history of abstract voices & childhood dreams u take hiz large hand u hold hiz hand u bring him some water & looking at him examining the small eyes the head like a salvador dali painting balancing between the table lamps the shoulders perpetually lunging in2 sleep something in the corner of the room alluding 2 a shadow u notice a softness in the mooncrust bellcurving the nape of hiz neck u rub that space that the fights haven't encroached upon he moves slightly 2 receive u u smile he laughs sounds throw off silence like unhinging iron he laughs through plastic skin like an old tractor dreaming of work like when rubbing that spot u polish a space in the muddy window of hiz memory where clarity falls across the mouth like cool water like finding boundless day through an error in the dark infinite clouds the cheeks hunch & recall joy suddenly he iz coughing oh, how hollow & huge a man must be 2 hark & huffle so what cavernous a man 2 exhale seasons that exist within the ribs u bade him "drink" u lift the cup with him "drink" u say he takes half spilling the other hiz eyes close 2 examine the coming quiet u wipe hiz chin turn on the tv & leave the room & at the door looking back cataloging the space between u & counting the dry leaves of the long days wrapped in incense & stillness hiz eyes catch yo's like he waz waiting 4 u 2 notice & hiz eyes smile the message iz simple "thank u" from hiz heart like a faint hello from 3 smokey rooms away

Romus © Copyright, 1999

the little boy next door who iz 4 or 5 iz shadow & shyness surrounded in longing he iz an inventor a steward a tarriff collector a slow driver a diver in the cauldersac corner a whisp of troubled air across the green afternoon he waits 4 u 4 he haz no father & watches yo car turn in2 the garage in may he sees the spring spray colors like battalions of brilliant men & how u come among them like a god whose hand he could touch & 5:30 belongs 2 just u & him just the 20 seconds from the garage 2 the house he counts yo steps u smile in courtesy & everything iz tangerine the ballooning street the bushes that need trimming the red roofs the hills behind the homes that hint navy blue & hide the universe & the little boy next door on hiz bike with hiz neat hair & eyes in hiz new blue jacket & shoes always untied iz waiting but what strikes u iz what is tied 2 2morrow & the coarse run in the drowsy traffic & the clock impersonally measuring yo life stealing whole treks of memory collapsing the heart in articulate angled increments & u r older 2 soon & there iz nothing heavier than yo hands but that little boy next door watches everyday counting yo steps looking 4 yo car & the short hurl 2 the front door that 20 seconds measured in acquiescing numbness the dash devoid of breath & color from the gaudy day's noise u move like a train 2 hurried 4 the slow rhythms of a flowering countryside & the flowers r watching u like the little boy next door & u r lonely like him he in the wide empty afternoon among the quiet houses & u behind the stoic reflections downtown & yes the distance across a lawn a year a lifetime a ritual that deceives intelligent men & the dreams of lonely little boys lacking language who watch windows go dark

Romus © Copyright, 1999

my grandmother sits on the couch & we thought we were silly thought laughter waz the invention of r strong teeth that we were lean black magnificent homogeneous in r stride & grandmother iz watching we run in & out bring the day back through the living room in shimmering bands of gold yellow & blue & how strong we r fences fly beneath us we chainlink the world cover cadilacs in single steps & grandmother iz reading while we dance the doowop & throw r hands oh, how straight we r the elegant lines between r joints r fingers crooking in2 the air like knotty black branches

my brother john trips hiz cut off shorts rip & all r sides quiver laughter wells up strong but grandmother iz watching we constrain r smiles we hide we breathe in the dazzling morning we fall apart inside & what an unexpected sight grandmother iz bubbling tearing bouncing beneath her weight & the common air between us like an ocean come home iz ancient & beautiful

Romus © Copyright, 1999

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