Chasing Utopia (8 page)

THE SPOTLIGHT IN THE SKY

I am the spotlight in the sky

Some call the moon

I call to the wolves to howl

With me

Sending little red riding girls

In their convertible Hondas

Home

Maybe I'm that girl everybody thinks

They know

I ride these winds

And rap with owls

The bats avoid us

Because I'm out of tune

What is this teenage thing

That we all pass through

This tunnel on the way

To grown-up-ness

Is what I see the grown-

Up world

War . . . waste . . . want

I'd rather be

In that spotlight

At break of dawn

Circling the sun

On my way to rest

Being a good Star

City called Roanoke

THE SPIDER WALTZ

A spider looked at me

And I at her

I thought a spider would be scared

but no

She smiled and sat beside me

in the chair

And handed me a muffin we could share

I thought “a waltz” is what this friendship needs

And so I sang a simple melody:

Come play with me

Come be my friend

And I will give you butter

Come sing a song

And dance a waltz

And I will give you jam

Come sing a song and dance with me

And you will be my friend

And we will laugh

And we'll have tea

And we will spin together

I WISH I COULD LIVE (IN A BOOK)

(for Charles A. Smith, Jr.)

I wish I could live

In a book

All wrapped up

In my fairy

Godmother's arms

Or sitting with my Cave

Mother baking dinosaur

Eggs

If I lived

In a book

I could fly

With Ali Baba

And even though it's not right

To steal

The Forty Thieves are

Pretty cool

Maybe there would be

A book about me

One day

Just a little girl being brave

In a world where water

Is in short supply

But everybody

Has a gun

I don't think

That's a good idea

I'd rather be in

A book

Making biscuits

On the frontier

Running with the wind

Following very lightly

On the laughter of the Prairie Dogs

That would be so nice

I think

Living in a book

I WISH I COULD LIVE (IN MUSIC)

I wish I could live

In music

I'd be all

Kinds:

Opera arias

Folk telling news

Minuets

Hoedown dancing

calling square dancers

Whoa! Bring me some

Disco

Yeah I'd be a Spiritual

And then a wonderful

Foot-stomping Gospel tune

Some blues—almost forgot

The Blues

And we need Jazz

I need me “A-Tisket

A-Tasket”

Some little yellow basket

But not a White Horse

I'm never gonna ride

The White Horse

I want to be Little Richard

Even Donald Duck sang

Little Richard

I mean
Quack Quack Quack Won't You Come Along with Me?

Now I'm rappin'

I'm telling the news

Napster freed me

And I can choose

To have it all

For free download

Yeah I want to live

In music

Teach Learn Rejoice

In music

In music I'm free

To be a better me

I WISH I COULD LIVE (IN A PAINTING)

There is something

About a railroad station

Not only the big pretty ones

Like in Cincinnati saying

“Gateway to the South”

or even Boston's Back Bay with

that heroic Tina Allen sculpture of A.

Philip Randolph

Union Station in DC . . . union being

Not only North and South

But working men and women getting

A fair wage for giving

A hard day's work

And those greatest of Black

Men . . . the Pullman Porters . . .

Who set the style . . . who took

America from primitive to privilege

Giving service all through the night

Cooking the meals

Setting the tables

Washing . . . pressing so others could look

Like gentlemen

Others sorted the mail

Which arrived

On time in the right city

No ZIP code needed thank you

These men could read

And no machine was invited

To that party

There is something about parallel

Lines moving up

And down over

Horizon and dreams never ever

Touching but rather on

A lonely journey with another

Lonely friend they don't talk

Though a song is sung

Parallel lines . . . not sea

Nor sky . . . hold the dreams

Of women

I wish I lived

In a painting

DON PULLEN

(for the Jefferson Center)

If dancers danced on their fingertips

Then piano players should play with their toes

The creative process is neither restrictive nor judgmental

It is the search for something

New and different and wonderful

Or maybe the need to make the old

Good again

It's put a stamp

On that note . . . not letter . . . and mail it

To a lonesome heart

Don Pullen sought community

Music

He wanted to play his tune

Out of tune sometimes

With friends who had another tune

To play

And if all tunes played

Their own tunes

Then wouldn't that tune be in harmony . . . wouldn't it?

He lived across the street

On 84th Street

From my first New York apartment

I don't play music I listen

Milford Graves, Cornell Dupree lived on that street

Eugene McDaniels down the street

Gregory Hines around the corner and a host of painters and writers

Did I mention George Faison and Morgan Freeman

And Clifton Davis came calling sometimes

What a pleasure to be

Young

And creative

And so sure of the future

We added to that conversation

And Don Pullen added to that song

MAKING A PERFECT MAN

(for Walter Leonard)

Good Morning, Ladies and Gentlemen. This morning we are going to make the perfect man.

Though you come to this enterprise with clean hands, please remember you cannot wash your hands of it. It is wise, however, to push back the wars and disease. We must understand that they are there but we will try not to wallow in them nor will we encourage any playing with them. You all remember what happened the last time we were working on men and all those hate viruses were set free. It practically took a world war to clean it up, then that Bush boy comes along shaking that blanket again.

Yes, well, the first thing to remember, Class, is that mistakes do happen. It is normal and to be expected. I always remind my students, though, to be sure to start with the best, freshest materials. I recommend the soil be flown in from Africa. There are some problems, true, but, mostly because Africa could not afford fertilizers, the soil is uncontaminated. Yes, yes, I know that sometimes the soil is sandy or weedy and a lot of times suppliers will cheat but that's why it's so important to go to reliable dealers. You pay a bit more in time and money but look at the quality.

Our task today is not the Perfect Man but The Man Perfectly suited for us.

Now, I always tell everyone,
intelligence.
I would put that in first. I know there is a school of thought that says “Intelligence can come last” or in the middle or at any time but I'm old-fashioned. If you want it, put it first. Let those other things adjust to it! I like kindly looks. I've seen enough of those pretty boys who are cruel and dumb. It may be that cruelty leads to dumbness or maybe dumbness to cruelty but either way I like a good clean sparkle in the eye.

Hold your question for a minute. I think knowing the Creator's preference helps you to know what you are expected to make. I once made seven six-foot-nine guys for the Los Angeles basketball team and I can't begin to tell you what a mistake it was. I could never smooth the arrogance out and Boy! Wow! Did we all pay for it. So I urge you on your first times to go a bit shorter. And that is also easier on Elegance. I can't begin to tell you how many times I've turned down commissions from people seeking Defensive Linesmen. There is no way to make them Elegant and I just won't be part of that. Your Quarterback, Wide Receivers . . . Yes. But the Linesmen, Offensive and Defensive . . . no way. I think football needs to go smaller anyway so that there are fewer injuries but that is not our subject this morning.

Lay out all your ingredients: good black soil, intelligence, elegance, a twinkle in each eye, and now we are getting there. Gently mix them. A lot of you young creators think you need to knock your man around but “No.” Gently mix, prod, and knead. Don't forget to add ambition and once you have a good mix a pinch of ambition is the perfect elixir. Now, I prefer patience after you have let it sit and mingle with itself. Yes, yes, I know getting patience in with just the right touch can sometimes mean loneliness but that's why intelligence is so important. Remember what happened to Michael Jackson with all that talent but no balance for the loneliness which led to an overruling of intelligence and all that ugliness that followed. I think a little loneliness is not all that bad.

Some of your older creators will recommend at this point firing him up but, as I say, I'm old-fashioned. Send him off to college, grad school, ultimately let him spend some time in a northern clime with a good harbor and excellent beans. Beans are so essential to growth, both physical and emotional. What you want to do is also remember to reward him as he does the right things. I would suggest a Betty if things are going as we think. A Betty is so easy to make. A good strong piece of chocolate. I prefer chocolate for my Bettys because it's already sweet and warm. You don't have to do a lot to give it a good shape and that place in her heart can so easily be filled with both intelligence and love. In all my centuries of creating I have never had a chocolate Betty be anything less than fabulous.

It's understood that some rain will fall so send him to a small colored college in the South to help save it. Then make sure they are ungrateful. Excuse me for giggling, Class, but I just love ingratitude. In the beginning I fought so hard against ingratitude with You-Know-Who but He wouldn't listen. To shut me up He said: “Well, how can we compromise on this?” I said: “A Daughter. The only antidote to ingratitude is a daughter.” I'm glad to say I was proven right on that one.

Oh, we know we've had our Adams and Georges and stuff. If this one comes out the way I think, I am planning to call him Walter: A good, strong name for a kind, elegant, intelligent, patient man. You can, at your option, add a sense of humor.

And if for some reason he's not perfect he's so close that only the perfect ones will know he's just a man. That's it for our lesson this morning.

WHEN MY PHONE TREMBLES

(for D'Angelo)

When my phone

Trembles

After midnight

I never think

of good news:

Someone's birthday

An overseas friend

Forgetting

The time difference

I never smell

Apples baking

Or nutmeg dancing

On sweet potatoes

Yeast rolls rising

Fish frying

I always look

For a way to hold

Myself

Together

Being a '60s person

I know

You have to be

Strong

When my phone trembles

After midnight

I take

A deep breath

Reach for my glasses

Think of my son

And I Pray

STILL LIFE WITH CRYING GIRL

Please don't answer before midnight

I had a dream

Last night

I sleep with earphones to drown out fears

Jazz mostly

Piano jazz

With a little Milt Jackson on the side

Saying it saying it saying it clear

“Save Your Love for Me”

But I was living in a wooded area

Very nice homes

Strange neighbors with kids and dogs and stuff

And I was in the kitchen by my mother

My father was breaking up the table

Throwing things around knocking chairs over

He didn't seem dangerous

Just mean

I picked my mother up from behind

Sort of like a heavy sack of flour

Or birdseed or even gravel for the pond

And carried her out

Then when I sat her down we were back in the kitchen again

I took her to a vehicle

I want to say a “car” but it wasn't a car

No no don't answer until midnight I won't be ready until then

And I drove away

It was as curvy as all get-out—a dirt road that was

Actually a lovely brown

But when we stopped we were back

In the kitchen

My sister was looking

And I was trying to say something

Which came out all crazy

So this 2 is not a poem

Because if it were a poem

I would put my head in your lap

And cry and cry

But since it is not a poem it must be

A painting
Still Life with Crying Girl

And what we would see is a bowl of half-eaten raspberries

Mint leaves drenched in the sugary liquid

And a little fly

Poised in the corner

At midnight attracted by the fly

The common vampire bat

On the light of a moonbeam

Will come to hold my head