An Afro Futurist Poem

I ammy mother's sonson of the soilson of the fatherson of grandmother grandfathergreat aunt and earth born runningborn blue and knee high through fever grasssun of the world1st bornof a womanwho sleeps in the sky son of the skyson of the moonson of a mellow ghost country folkson of a bridgeof lightand hungerand fireand hooks and eyesand eyes and I and Ithe eyes of treesof leavesand leaves of eyesand branchesand seeds, and roots and the glittering

Mapsof the East

Root stratain our historyin the very manner of our livesin our genealogy — landscape data

I amthe boy who grew tallthe sheriff with the tin badge and the cap gunborn Black as magicmovestowards trutheastuntil the islandends inseascapesdriving along uphill motorways sidewaysin the sound and sparkle

Of a saxophone solos etched

Son of the son of the son of the son of the earth tone bone

Mother soil father oil

Son of theson of theson of akashic memoryson of the sum of our history — Africanretention

Listen...listen

I amson of mythand wonderand light years tings and times and I and I and I

Universe world

Into air. into air

Eyes of leaves as branches to treesand roots

To be a partof a circleto be hill and valleyto be fruitwhich is the song of treesand driving eastalong that uphill motorwayto upper rim of Kunu Supiawhere shacks stand high on chrome stilts where my cousins were clearing a path for the silver river to ride.So much silt and river vinewere tangled in that water.Muscle in that water like the opportunity to write a new historybeing born in this new definitionof homelike new born woodcome now come now come nowwe aredust and original bones.we are the consequence and joyful bloom of agonies, of oceansmembers don't get wearywe must derive new mythologiesand syntax and modes of expression which are fixed beyond comparisonto alien transmissionthis isa world of swift curvaturesfabric of a regionwhere we have built homesand new societies, securitieswhere we moved upon the waters transforming darkness into energy

Joe Sam was stronghe smuggled bootleg melanin through the deserthe travelled by animatic propulsion the Congo pump went crashing until it crash landedin the desert

All that was in my bloodand all that is my genealogy transmutation of sacred geometry we were buildingnetworks of RNA messengerswe were pure energytransposed through the downfalls and the stormsthe swellsand the stuttering rainwe were cutting rugsand breaking downgetting back up and shining singing,swinging something dangerous like the sharp side of the blade

Becoming human becoming wise

We were iconictremendouscoming down from the mainland in canoeswe might even have travelled transcendentallyhallucinatingin the astralseeking life bearing stars

Becoming human becoming wiseI ama link in the chain a degree of light

A sparkle in the rain a glinta` poemwith no words from a place

Where we measure distanceby breath