excerpt from
hairbrush in the bathroom mirror, posing az a mic…








dawning salutations sisterly swallow nourished parts of speech/growing from
wyld hair and shimmered silver tongues/crocheted cognition told me to
be/digging through crates on tracks saved on my monitored computer/by the
end of my work day/i fall in love with the thought of a shot of wheat grass/and
syncopated polka dots blowing beats, verses, and hooks upon my sense of
perceived sound/the orange light on my walkman transmits an iridescent
spontaneity/he walks by my side bobbing his brow/

the sun puckers waiting on the moon to seal the deal/pitstop at the
park/barefoot and sluggish/propagating the ethos of live instrumentation/ an
array of samplers' delicacies/my pen-tip glides across unlined pages/on a
burned cd miles musically marries lizz wright/ but he doesn’t whip her ass like
he did ms. cicely/

lightning bugs wink at my silhouette/code for leaving the park/parlaying on
the front stoop under bug repellent, sprawled notebooks, and cd
cases/embedded meaning/true ignorance of the metaphorical elephant in the
room/who says sistagyrls can’t rock the mic?/

the day ends upstairs studying in my bed/sinner's music intertwines with
rosaries/in sister outsider* my highlighter sweetly bumps up against/“where
does the pain go when it goes away”/no need for psycho-analysis instead i
smile/cuz az long az i keep birthing trees with my words/listening to
god/allowing myself to feel/ and being holy ghosted by good music/i will
always be aight/

                                                                                            *Audre Lorde, Sister Outsider

(c) 2005 all rights reserved by veronica precious bohanan. duplications are not allowed.


i once dreamt of being an emcee...

i tag pads, scraps, napkins, and leaflets
with the soul of frida
haunted by pinero
and the vision of annie b. real