soul sistah, i wanna get wi’chya

soul sistah,
really,
i wanna get wi’chya.

and live a life existential and
sacred, and yet
scandalously ir-reverential.

let’s be grounded
in the metaphysical,
connected to our roots
with souls flung free.

let us make love
in the shadow of our Story,
and bask
in the afterglow of our glory.

let’s make babies,
young,
gifted,
and black.
let them know real love
by how my fingers caress your back.

I mean to getchya woman,
give you all of me
and make you mine.
but first
let us stroll a bit
and let our tale unwind.

Wien

again and again
i return
to you
with your vaulted airs
borne of a past
haunted
by fancies and prestige,
and gilded
with horrors.

your
charming rounded corners
still cut

sharply
into my hollowed
depths.

i see aperol smiles
sharing

with that familiar
lilt

that still escapes me.


you are home,
away from
every other place I go.

don’t wait for me.
because I won’t-

yet we seem to meet
again
and again
on your broad
mourning streets

ain’t free*

tickled by
sweet
desire,
i run
faster than you can feel.

touch,
deeper than you can know.

love,
bigger than you can imagine.

so,
can you really

know where i am going?
if i don’t?

appreciate this lovin’
if it comes with a twist?

surrender everything
and enter the divine?

maybe I’ll get
you a pair
of go-fasters,
so you can do you,
and let me
be free.

or maybe,
I’ll just keep on running,
until i fly
again.

cuz,

(you
aint
neva
been
‘ta
spain.)

*inspired by Mr. Lamar