Picasso Mask Les Demoiselles d'Avignon
An Invisible Man
—for Ralph Ellison
__________________
“I am the poet—
of Negro lovers”
—John Wieners,
“First Poem After Silence
Since Thanksgiving,”
Selected Poems
There, I’m saying—What I couldn’t say earlier In the story “The Birthmark” Constantly reminded—In that story by the fact that I was born with a Negro penis It’s as strangely as if—I had this Serpent thing Coiled up inside my crotch
________________________
In my Abercrombie &—Fitch shorts down there A Negro life of its own Lurking down there—My tattoo of shame and Birthmark of Negritude Then uncoiling itself—Down the side of my leg Wanting to get off
________________________
Rebelling against—My whitey ass and Whitey view of things The head resting—Nonchalantly down there Outta sight, outta mind Ashamed of it—Feeling guilty about it Wanting to hide it
________________________
I couldn’t help it—I was just born that way What could I do about it? When I masturbated—Like all guys do growing up It wasn’t like Vanilla sex I had this Congolese cock—Squirting Jizz outta me It wasn’t whitey getting off
________________________
I had this big problem—Ten inches of Mulatto meat Turning me inside out It made me feel down—And dirty when I did the Down low on myself But what could I do—When I had to get off like Any young man’s gotta do?
________________________
It was no big deal for me—Passing as a white guy like High yellow octoroon guys do Everybody’s mulatto now—Tinged with a little dab of African American dinge African-Samoan hot guys—Riding the busses and light-rail Downtown sitting beside me
________________________
Somali cute boys cruising—Outside Garfield High school Hunky no longer skinny Young African kings—Melding and morphing with Whitey chicken into gods Just like Faulkner said—Absalom, Absalom albino Family tree in the making
________________________
The curse of slavery—Dixie’s savage denouement Delta Bourbon bigotry Karmic carnality flowing—Ironically thru my whitey veins My trailer trash heritage Haunting me down here—As surely as Black Genesis Going Down on Moses
________________________
An surely as young Sutpen—Going down on Bon the Beautiful Down there at Ole Miss As surely as Temple Drake—Going down on Popeye & Red In Miss Reba’s Memphis Whorehouse As surely as me standing—Nude in front of the mirror No longer an Invisible Man
—for Ralph Ellison
__________________
“I am the poet—
of Negro lovers”
—John Wieners,
“First Poem After Silence
Since Thanksgiving,”
Selected Poems
There, I’m saying—What I couldn’t say earlier In the story “The Birthmark” Constantly reminded—In that story by the fact that I was born with a Negro penis It’s as strangely as if—I had this Serpent thing Coiled up inside my crotch
________________________
In my Abercrombie &—Fitch shorts down there A Negro life of its own Lurking down there—My tattoo of shame and Birthmark of Negritude Then uncoiling itself—Down the side of my leg Wanting to get off
________________________
Rebelling against—My whitey ass and Whitey view of things The head resting—Nonchalantly down there Outta sight, outta mind Ashamed of it—Feeling guilty about it Wanting to hide it
________________________
I couldn’t help it—I was just born that way What could I do about it? When I masturbated—Like all guys do growing up It wasn’t like Vanilla sex I had this Congolese cock—Squirting Jizz outta me It wasn’t whitey getting off
________________________
I had this big problem—Ten inches of Mulatto meat Turning me inside out It made me feel down—And dirty when I did the Down low on myself But what could I do—When I had to get off like Any young man’s gotta do?
________________________
It was no big deal for me—Passing as a white guy like High yellow octoroon guys do Everybody’s mulatto now—Tinged with a little dab of African American dinge African-Samoan hot guys—Riding the busses and light-rail Downtown sitting beside me
________________________
Somali cute boys cruising—Outside Garfield High school Hunky no longer skinny Young African kings—Melding and morphing with Whitey chicken into gods Just like Faulkner said—Absalom, Absalom albino Family tree in the making
________________________
The curse of slavery—Dixie’s savage denouement Delta Bourbon bigotry Karmic carnality flowing—Ironically thru my whitey veins My trailer trash heritage Haunting me down here—As surely as Black Genesis Going Down on Moses
________________________
An surely as young Sutpen—Going down on Bon the Beautiful Down there at Ole Miss As surely as Temple Drake—Going down on Popeye & Red In Miss Reba’s Memphis Whorehouse As surely as me standing—Nude in front of the mirror No longer an Invisible Man
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