senzo

carnegie hall, october 19, 2014 beauty eludes me, usually. i soak up the lush red, violet, indigo blooms abdullah ibrahim’s cool fingers pluck from the keyboard’s bed, but bring to these ‘rooms’ (stanzas forged from replayed past as today’s not-news) no solacing bouquets. my weeds? i conjure rough green to rupture from seeds so furious they bleed — or, grieving, raise crabgrass and blue notes, peppered with rust, where he grows flowers. yes, i tend my plants incisively : no phrase that droops or wants out of the sun survives long. but the rest run wild, flush vivid, throw shade, deluge fruit, lavishly express their dissonant root.