Morning Haiku Read online

  sister haiku (for Pat)

  1.

  How many

  secrets you carried

  in your panties

  2.

  infections

  of confections

  no retractions

  3.

  the autumnal

  rain announced a

  sister’s fragrance

  4.

  your slanted

  black eyes smiled

  crystals

  5.

  can two little

  girls holding hands walk unnoticed

  in a large house?

  6.

  young man . . . home from war . . .

  envies the subtle

  pause of young beauty

  7.

  disguised as

  uncle he picked at

  your unbroken spine

  8.

  how to moisten

  the silence of an

  afternoon molestation?

  9.

  silk on your

  skin no armor for

  the amputee

  10.

  Birmingham

  eyes ignoring

  the winter’s confinement

  11.

  to be born

  to be raped

  each journey a sudden wave

  12.

  his touch wore

  you down to a

  fugitive eye.

  13.

  the sound of you

  sucking your thumb at nite

  blows in my ears

  14.

  all morning

  our mother’s voice

  beyond the hills.

  15 haiku (for Toni Morrison 14)

  1.

  We know so little

  about migrations of souls crossing

  oceans. seas of longing;

  2.

  we have not always been

  prepared for landings that held

  us suspended above our bones;

  3.

  in the beginning

  there wuz we and they and others

  too mournful to be named;

  4.

  or brought before elders

  even held in contempt. they were

  so young in their slaughterings;

  5.

  in the beginning

  when memory was sound. there was

  bonesmell. bloodtear. whisperscream;

  6.

  and we arrived

  carrying flesh and disguise

  expecting nothing;

  7.

  always searching

  for gusts of life

  and sermons;

  8.

  in the absence

  of authentic Gods

  new memory;

  9.

  in our escape from plunder

  in our nesting on agitated land

  new memory;

  10.

  in our fatigue at living

  we saw mountains cracking

  skulls, purple stars, colourless nights;

  11.

  trees praising our innocence

  new territories dressing our

  limbs in starched bones;

  12.

  in our traveling to weselves

  in the building, in the journeying

  to discover our own deaths;

  13.

  in the beginning

  there was a conspiracy of blue eyes

  to iron eyes;

  14.

  new memory falling into death

  O will we ever know

  what is no more with us;

  15.

  O will weselves ever

  convalesce as we ascend into wave after

  wave of bloodmilk?

  5 haiku (for Brother Damu 15)

  1.

  You pointed out

  lewd waters mad

  with toxic wounds

  2.

  you world traveller

  mixing language

  and touch

  3.

  we see your hands

  bandaging disciples

  of peace

  4.

  humming this

  earth back

  to sanity

  5.

  silk toned

  dapper black

  man smiling . . .

  6 haiku (for Elizabeth Catlett 16 in Cuernavaca)

  1.

  La Señora

  making us remember

  flesh and wind

  2.

  O how you

  help us catch

  each other’s breath

  3.

  a woman’s

  arms climbing with

  colored dreams

  4.

  Elizabeth

  slides into the pool

  hands kissing the water

  5.

  i pick

  up your breath and

  remember me

  6.

  your hands

  humming hurricanes

  of beauty.

  5 haiku

  1.

  You sniff

  dog-like around

  language

  2.

  i taste

  your saliva spiked

  with applause

  3.

  painted beads

  falling from your

  fingertips

  4.

  poems

  going the wrong way

  in moonlight

  5.

  you fast talking

  manicured poet

  sailing on glass.

  2 haiku (for Ras Baraka 17)

  1.

  Your hands

  shout eucalyptus

  songs

  2.

  your poems

  the smell of

  morning rain.

  6 haiku (for Oprah Winfrey 18)

  1.

  O how we

  rinse each other’s

  shadows

  2.

  summertime

  roses caught in

  our throats

  3.

  you

  position women against

  grave diggers

  4.

  in your laughter

  we capture birthdays

  in wild colors

  5.

  you have

  rescued women from a

  timid ground of loss

  6.

  in your eyes

  we breathe each other’s

  dreams.

  5 haiku (for Sarah Vaughan 19)

  1.

  Me in midair

  sailing underneath

  your lips.

  2.

  we don’t stare

  we don’t seem to care

  are we a pair?

  3.

  where are the clowns

  are they all stampeding

  my house?

  4.

  without your

  residential breath

  i lose my timing.

  5.

  Send in the clowns

  There is space

  above the air.

  2 haiku

  1.

  Your eyes

  ignite . . . stampede

  death

  2.

  your body turns

  towards me

  more than baptism.

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  5 love haiku

  1.

  Under

  a sexual sky you

  coughed swords

  2.

  your smell

  slides under my

  fingernails

  3.

  love

  walking backwards

  towards assassinations

  4.

  locust man

  eatin
g the grain

  of women

  5.

  your tongue

  jelly on my

  lips.

  7 haiku (for St. Augustine 30)

  1.

  Playboy of North

  Africa, burning the streets before

  you learned to genuflect

  2.

  mama’s boy

  holding on to Saint

  Monica’s tits

  3.

  Milan

  lover of sculpted

  waists

  4.

  can i reinvent

  your pigeon-toed walk

  toward God?

  5.

  can i resurrect

  sepulchers, posturing

  inside your veins?

  6.

  can i

  spill salt from

  your legs?

  7.

  can i reinvent you and me

  to love until i become still

  to worship until you become stone?

  6 haiku (for Maya Angelou 31)

  1.

  You have

  taught us how

  to pray

  2.

  your poems

  yellow tattoos on the

  morning dew

  3.

  we dance

  in the eye

  of your pores

  4.

  in a sudden

  pause of breath

  secrets unlock

  5.

  you show us

  how to arrange our

  worldly selves

  6.

  your poems

  a landscape of

  seabirds.

  haiku woman (La mujer de los ojos 32)

  1.

  You . . . woman

  surrendering your arms

  to silk

  2.

  coming among

  us luxurious with

  flesh

  3.

  you allow no

  frailty to accent

  your blood

  4.

  you . . . swallowing

  the morning as you lean

  back on your eyes.

  memory haiku

  1.

  i was born

  a three-legged

  black child.

  2.

  carrying an

  extra leg for quick

  departures.

  3.

  beneath the sun

  i moved in short

  Birmingham breaths.

  4.

  silence of the

  house . . . in the kitchen

  someone washes the floor.

  5.

  silence. no words.

  just the sound

  of earthquakes.

  6.

  precocious morning

  releasing an avalanche

  of blood.

  7.

  in the hospital

  mother, you chanted complex

  half-moons.

  8.

  what is it about

  childbirth that women

  ask for seconds?

  9.

  how long the nite

  to break your body into

  a diabetic coma.

  10.

  how wild the

  gust of blood running

  down hospital corridors.

  11.

  do women

  make a living singing

  death prints?

  12.

  in my dreams

  i rubbed your limbs

  until they sparkled.

  13.

  wherever i am

  i patrol

  your seasonal death.

  14.

  i bring you

  pine trees and laughter

  for your journey.

  15.

  do you hear me

  singing in the mountains

  under a constant sky?

  16.

  i, a passerby

  to your death,

  cradle your breath.

  17.

  i, a sleepwalker

  to dreams, imagine you a

  crane flying south.

  18.

  every day

  i hear your voice

  beyond the hills.

  haiku poem: 1 year after 9/11

  Sweet September morning

  how did you change skirts so fast?

  What is the population of death

  at 8:45 on a Tuesday morning?

  How does a country become

  an orphan to its own blood?

  Will these public deaths

  result in private bloodletting?

  Amongst the Muslim, the Jew, and the Christian

  whom does God love more?

  How did you disappear, peace, without

  my shawl to accompany you?

  What cante jondo 33 comes

  from a hijacked plane?

  Did you hear the galvanized steel

  thundering like hunted buffalo?

  Glass towers collapsing in prayer

  are you a permanent guest of God?

  Why do some days wear the

  clothing of a beggar?

  Where did these pornographic flames

  come from, blaspheming sealed births?

  Did they search for pieces of life

  by fingerprinting the ash?

  Death speaking in a loud voice,

  are your words only for the deaf?

  What is the language for bones

  scratching the air?

  What is the accent of life

  when windows reflect only death?

  Hey death! You furious frequent flier,

  can you hear us tasting this earth?

  Did the currents recognize her sound

  as she sailed into the clouds?

  Does death fly south

  at the end of the day?

  Did you see the burnt bones

  sleepwalking a city?

  Is that Moses. Muhammad. Buddha. Jesus.

  gathering up the morning dead?

  Why did you catch them, death,

  holding their wings out to dry?

  How did this man become

  a free-falling soliloquy?

  Why did September come whistling

  through the air in a red coat?

  How hard must the wind

  blow to open our hearts?

  How to reconnoiter our lives

  away from epileptic dreams?

  How to live—How to live

  without contraband blood?

  Is this only an eastern wind

  registering signatures of ash?

  Do the stars genuflect

  with pity toward everyone?

  explanatory notes

  Max Roach, a founder of modern jazz, was a world-renowned African American percussionist, drummer, and composer.[back]

  Emmett Louis Till was a fourteen-year-old African American Chicagoan murdered in 1955 in Money, Mississippi, for allegedly flirting with a white woman.[back]

  The Philadelphia Murals are a public art project created by local artists and communities that reflect the culture of Philadelphia’s neighborhoods. There are over a hundred murals throughout the city, including one of Sonia Sanchez.[back]

  Nubia was a dear friend of the poet who died quite unexpectedly. This poem was written for her funeral.[back]

  Odetta was a famed African American folk singer whose songs became anthems for the U.S. civil rights movement.[back]

  Richard Long is a celebrated African American scholar of literature, culture, and the arts. This poem was written on the occasion of a ceremony in his honor.[back]

  “Tanabata” is a poem written about stars and hung on trees.[back]

  Luisa Moreno was the first woman and first Latina member of the California Congress of Industrial Organizations Council and a leader in the United States labor movement.[back]
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  Eugene Redmond is an African American poet from St. Louis.[back]

  Ray Brown was an African American jazz double bassist, considered by many to be a leading bassist in the bop style. This poem was written after listening to his music on the radio after his death.[back]

  Beauford Delaney was a renowned African American modernist painter. These haiku were written after viewing his work at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.[back]

  John Dowell is an African American artist. Tranescape is his painting of the famous jazz musician John Coltrane.[back]

  “4 haiku (for Max Roach)” were written after a visit to a residential home in Brooklyn.[back]

  Toni Morrison is a Nobel Prize–winning African American author. These haiku were written after reading Morrison’s novel Paradise.[back]

  Brother Damu was one of the first African American environmental activists and peace workers. He was the founder of Black Voices for Peace and the National Black Environmental Justice Network.[back]

  Elizabeth Catlett is a major African American sculptor and printmaker in America and Mexico whose career spans the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. She lives in Cuernevaca, Mexico, and New York City.[back]

  A young African American poet, Ras Baraka is the son of poets Amiri and Amina Baraka.[back]

  Oprah Winfrey is an African American television host, a producer, and a philanthropist.[back]