“Tell me why you love me.”

I’m listening to Marc Rebillet sing that line. I’m listening to last Sunday’s “Brunch” FB stream. Rebillet fascinates me. Fascinates me in the way getting to watch any artist create in real time fascinates me. Watching him is scary. He just does anything, does everything. He’s so … visible. I can’t fathom letting anyone watch me in the way he let’s himself be watched. Crazypants. And beautiful and amazing. And terrifying.

I tried something with tonight’s poem, and it didn’t really work, but I’m leaving it as is and posting it anyway. The source text for tonight comes from Lucille Clifton’s poem, “my dream about being white.” I want someone to create a silent meditation retreat — maybe only for Black women — where all participants do is read Clifton for hours and hours every day and see where their minds go. Yeah, definitely only for Black women.

What I Might Want (Take 2)

It's more than a year and
I'm wondering where we go. I'm
wary, perhaps even scared. I'm wearing
confidence, self-assuredness -- a mask that looks like a white
flag. I'm giving up, giving in -- to you, to history.

Giving in, giving up. But
still, there's
magic in this surrender. No,
not defeat, not stagnation. A glimpse of a future.

National Poetry Month 2021: the Golden Shovel

As I’ve done for the last forever, I’ve chosen a poetic form, and I’m going to try to write a poem in that form every day for the month of April. I don’t always succeed, but I always give it my best shot. The “Golden Shovel” was created by Terrance Hayes in tribute to Gwendolyn Brooks. I learned about it from my friend Sonia (aka Red Emma). I’ll be using Lucille Clifton’s poems as my starting point this month. Here are the rules:

  • Take a line (or lines) from a poem you admire.
  • Use each word in the line (or lines) as the end word for each line in your poem.
  • Keep the end words in order.
  • Give credit to the poet who originally wrote the line (or lines).
  • The new poem does not have to be about the same subject as the poem that offers the end words.

If you pull a line with six words, your poem would be six lines long. If you pull a stanza with 24 words, your poem would be 24 lines long. And so on.

Should be interesting!

2 thoughts on ““Tell me why you love me.”

  1. “No,
    not defeat, not stagnation. A glimpse of a future.”

    I do believe we got the smallest taste of that today. The tiniest sample, but it’s been such a long time since anything has even been on the plate.


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