photo by Alex Lear

Echoing Eshu’s Love Songs

 (for “eshu” ethelbert miller)

man, the relevance of coincidence is a motherfucker

just today, walked down commercial street

the business end of provincetown

in and out of shops, paused here, there

entered where attracted by something

backed out and continued

found this used bookstore (found? 

must be careful of my verbs

i am not a white man

the store was there before i

got there) entered 

they had a poetry bookcase

bought 4 books: sam cornish – songs

of jubilee, kimiko hahn – air pocket,

akua lezli hope – embouchure, and

e. ethelbert miller – where

are the love poems

for dictators? / before midnight

had read, scanned or run thru

them all. yes, of course

i knew about dictators,

have run into a few before

on an occasion or two

or should i say ill-occasion

have even been one, but

i do not own the book on that

there are no love songs

for dictators, not even

i’ll be glad when you’re dead

you rascal you, cause even that

has a bit of affection, anyway

i think it one of your better books

you were on to something

or maybe simply on something

or was it someone

who had your mind so open

you could feel the impress

of another’s smile, another’s

grimace, and you could walk that

shit home backwards and blind

like a beggar going back and forth

between their favorite corner

and the poor piece of space 

they call a crib

so then i get this email from you. and all i can say is damn, and look out the window a second into the dark and know that either god is laughing or i should be because the universe sure enough knows how to confound the wisdom of we poor wretched fools who make the mistake of trying to understand it—the universe, that is—and i started to wondering if anyone ever really knows why their lover loves them, actually that’s not quite true, ’cause where i started with was wondering does nia know why i love her, do i know, is love knowable or simply, if we are lucky, embracable? like who knows where the song comes from or goes to, we just lucky when we can hit the notes and carry a tune… like that, and now i’m free typing this without knowing where it’s coming from or where i will end up, just knowing i wanted to let you know, that i hear you, brother, i hear your songs and echo the rhythms: ain’t no love song for dictators, for love is beyond the frequency of the ears of those who consciously hurt others

—kalamu ya salaam