"Sorry" - Ntozake Shange

one thing i don’t need

is any more apologies

i got sorry greetin me at my front door

you can keep yrs

i don’t know what to do wit em

they dont open doors

or bring the sun back

they dont make me happy

or get a mornin paper

didnt nobody stop usin my tears to wash cars

cuz a sorry

i am simply tired

of collectin

i didnt know

i was so important to you

i’m gonna haveta throw some away

i cant get to the clothes in my closet

for alla the sorries

i’m gonna tack a sign to my door

leave a message by the phone

‘if you called

to say yr sorry

call somebody

else

i dont use em anymore’

i let sorry/ didnt meanta/ & how cd i know abt that

take a walk down a dark & musty street in brooklyn

i’m gonna do exactly what i want to

& i wont be sorry for none of it

letta sorry soothe yr soul/ i’m gonna soothe mine

you were always inconsistent

doin somethin & then bein sorry

beatin my heart to death

talkin bout you sorry

well

i will not call

i’m not goin to be nice

i will raise my voice

& scream & holler

& break things & race the engine

& tell all yr secrets bout yrself to yr face

& i will list in detail everyone of my wonderful lovers

& their ways

i will play oliver lake

loud

& i wont be sorry for none of it

i loved you on purpose

i was open on purpose

i still crave vulnerability & close talk

& i’m not even sorry bout you bein sorry

you can carry all the guilt & grime ya wanna

just dont give it to me

i cant use another sorry

next time

you should admit

you’re mean/ low-down/ triflin/ & no count straight out

steada bein sorry alla the time

enjoy bein yrself

Icarus, The Fool - Riley R.

It is easy to think me a fool,

the foolish boy whose foolish dreams

melted his wings and

broke his father’s heart.

What is harder to see:

I knew the math of it all,

remembered the geometry of

wax and feathers

so well I could taste it on my tongue

scraping like cardamom

and sour sweet like tangerines

on the roof of my mouth.

Height and wind speed,

melting points and velocity,

lift and thrust,

bird wings turned to equations

I held in my heart.

But oh,

to fly is nothing at all like math.

It is nothing at all like diagrams of

birds and insects and cloud formations.

To see the sun, The Sun, oh,

to spread your fingers through it’s warmth

as the air becomes tangible like the sea,

oh, there was no room in this heart for

the coldness of figures,

they were melted long long before my wings.

So judge, though the sky has never loved you

and I will yearn for the sun, The Sun,

oh,

from the bottom of the sea.

dial tone - Riley R.

The saddest poem I ever wrote

was the “goodbye” I whispered

on the skin of your temple

so softly you didn’t hear it

until the fifth time you called

and I didn’t pick up

when the voicemail you left

was ten seconds of silence

followed by a sigh

as you took the phone from your ear.

BROTHER - Richard Shelton

you still carry

your guilt around for company

I will not deprive you of it

but I have an empty space

where my hate lived

while I nursed it

as if it were a child

brother my only

brother it was too late for us

before we were born

it was too late

before you learned to be brutal

and I learned to be weak

your childhood

was a hallway of doors

each closing just as you

got to it

but I was younger

and all the doors were closed

before I could walk

how could I have expected you

to save me when you could

not save yourself

brother my only

brother if not from you

from whom did I learn

so much despair

I went in search

of a father and found you

with a whip in your hand

but what were you searching for

in such dark places

where I was searching for love

THE BOTTOM LINE - Richard Shelton

                                                       For William Stafford

You and I think about it: who pays

the price for the way we live?

Some people live so still

they incur no expenses. Others,

so wild there's the Devil to pay.

Some don't even know they're in debt

and others go slow to avoid it.

People like you pay as you go

and people like me live in debt,

but we know who we owe. I owe

a woman, a good woman, and I

will never be able to pay.

People like you are beautiful

and free of all debt. The best

that can be said for people like me

is that we know who we owe.

Lightness - Meg Bateman (translated from the Gaelic)

It was your lightness that drew me,

the lightness of your talk and your laughter,

the lightness of your cheek in my hands,

your sweet gentle modest lightness;

and it is the lightness of your kiss

that is starving my mouth,

and the lightness of your embrace

that will let me go adrift.

New World - Louise Glück

As I saw it,

all my mother's life, my father

held her down, like

lead strapped to her ankles.

She was

buoyant by nature;

she wanted to travel,

go to theater, go to museums.

What he wanted

was to lie on the couch

with the Times

over his face,

so that death, when it came,

wouldn't seem a significant change.

In couples like this,

where the agreement

is to do things together,

it's always the active one

who concedes, who gives.

You can't go to museums

with someone who won't

open his eyes.

I thought my father's death

would free my mother.

In a sense, it has:

she takes trips, looks at

great art. But she's floating.

Like some child's balloon

that gets lost the minute

it isn't held.

Or like an astronaut

who somehow loses the ship

and has to drift in space

knowing, however long it lasts,

this is what's left of being alive: she's free

in that sense.

Without relation to earth.

"A youth in apparel that glittered" - Stephen Crane

A youth in apparel that glittered

Went to walk in a grim forest.

There he met an assassin

Attired all in garb of old days;

He, scowling through the thickets,

And dagger poised quivering,

Rushed upon the youth.

"Sir," said this latter,

"I am enchanted, believe me,

To die, thus,

In this medieval fashion,

According to the best legends;

Ah, what joy!"

Then took he the wound, smiling,

And died, content.

Action - Gösta Ågren

Every victory concludes

itself.  What remains is the way,

the same way again.  It is

possible to learn

knowledge, to conceal that

wild, nameless bird

beneath a name.  It is easy

to realise one's dreams

if one sacrifices them. And

the years, the years go by.  Yet

you must act now.

More profound than all that you do

is all that you are.  The most profound

is all that you must do

in order to be able to remain

who you are.

Grab Ass - C.L. Bledsoe

I wonder if you're dead and buried in a short

coffin, beef-jerky muscles wasted on meth

and misanthropy, daddy's money long spent.

Was the aroma of Ben Gay and rot in the air

while all the ex-footballers cum used car

salesmen wept quietly in their hand-

kerchiefs thinking about the glory days? I wonder

if your cheerleader wife stayed when you lost

your hair. When you got inside her, was there

anything there? Did you even win your blond

medal? What a waste you were. Timmy,

you hated me because I saw through you

to the void where your soul should've been,

and I knew, no matter how fast you ran,

you'd never outpace it. But all I had to do was wait

to get past you. Timmy, I hated you because you ruled

the world from the inside, because you always won

even when you needed to learn how to lose.