Carefully hidden beneath the cedar,
My ledger is found

Whereby the darkest of my dayes
Is present

And eye do not meet it well-armed
Alas! My Father’s sword is not snug against my hip

No Poetry here (en this terrible place)
No Love
No Light
No Grace

Only the beginning of the End

{Two-Beat Pause}

The Words of Making / My Words!
Have failed me
And eye have failed them

Their taste en my mouth is bitter
                          my eyes
Are dry

Behold a Negro Poet
At the end of his rope
W/ out The Hallows at his command
W/ out Saintly Vision

W/ out Hope

All this, he declares
All eye have known
And held dear

Is gone.

© LogosVox 2013