group d'etat:
movement without moment — is not
revolution — it's just
noise

I can’t write on medication
stretch out on planks
keep them I punch it

I used to be the executive assistant to the vice president of Chanel
I worked my way up from Estée Lauder

skip the irony of the laboratory
and the four hundred bucks.

As I was sayin papichulo
My pussy’s got a name
But you don’t know it / never bothered to ask
 

In the living room between separated couches,
Sun beaming on the wall while suspense arouses.

Barreling like gut born love songs
Your ancestors are smiling
As we pass the time
When we ride
It's language

Tribes' fearless leader, "Blind Guy," Steve Cannon penned this poem to accompany David Hammons' exhibit on Charles White and Leonardo DaVinci at the Museum of Modern Art. Dig it!

My hands are hardened to the springtime task

Of ripping out dead wildflower stalks

Leftover from last fall.

exhausted,

I watch you

Sleeping 

Vince, the teenager with ''exuberance'', was on the verge of plunging into the waters of decadence-----being friends with Oasis, his agemate and a juvenile with questionable character---until his parents sat him down to tell him their teenage stories---how they grew---experiencing the bad and ugly sides of life but became responsible as young adults and parents. Several years later,  Vince's tuned-new-leaf situation inspired him to write ''Family Tells A Story'', In Family Matters and Home Magazines.

I saw a play the other night
on Broadway and I learned
that the stage is within me
not in front of me

I cannot bring it to the international food fest

at the middle school; it will be returned

like the tea eggs after orchestra practice.