the door of maul

– i –
has the
door of maul begun?     to

my sound, there is a beginning     has
the
     maul begun?     to my belonging there is a stair
     has the maul
     begun?     to my lack of eye there is the nectar

no place under the sun has begun to seek     has
     the maul begun?

“You might as well answer the door, my child, the truth is furiously knocking.” – Lucille Clifton

– oo –
have I stolen dreamlight off
your eyelids

shine off your sense of breath
or has

dust welcomed you once again
to breathe,

to meet the thin edges of possibility
again where

night knows only the pounce of
day     to

greet that possibility with an
ancient cheer?

“Every pair of eyes facing you has probably experienced something you could not endure.” – Lucille Clifton

– xxx –
a deceased poetic space     where
swarm of privilege

mobs the otherVoice     where
night coopts as day

and no one cares to call it
out     a diseased

poetic space     where the club
of law is high

ness standing over & above
lowfulness

“Poems come out of wonder, not out of knowing.” – Lucille Clifton

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