Molly's Turn: Poetry, unexpectedly beautiful!



Askia Humphrey: Poet

 My daughter has brought into our lives a wonderful young man who is an incredible dancer among many other talents.  The talent that you cannot visually see is his poetry.  I have never been real fond of poetry, growing up with the beat generation poets as part of my parents circle of friends in San Francisco.  Just didn't like poetry, although I do love Maya Angelou, whom I met when I was about 11 years old. ( I credit her with my appreciation for people, she taught me that everyone is worthy of respect and the kindness of being listened to).  Encountering Askia's poetry has really changed my perspective on the subject.  I can see how beautiful and precise poetry can be.  And how revealing.  Askia writes from his own personal experiences.  He creates an audio painting, to my mind,  and I am intrigued by his work which leaves me wanting to read more.

I have gathered together his poetry into a small booklet which hangs from his painting so that anyone who looks at his beautiful face can read his gorgeous words. Can you tell I really appreciate  him??





Here are Askia's Poems:

Salem Light

She tilts her wrist;

An old southern belle

Holding a Salem Light

Between her index

And her middle finger.

The smoke streaming up

From the little ember

At the end of it

Hangs around her head

Too heavy to ascend.

She sits poised

Like the proud obverse of a coin;

A cameo amid the smoke;

A profile silhouette

Against the lighted window;

Her chin is high

And her eyes are narrowed

With crows feet so deep-

                             Hard old trails

            From Texas to California.

She brings the Salem Light to her lips;

The smoke stops

And the little ember glows.

The Silence of Pietro Olivetti

Every day,

Between chemistry

And literature,

Pietro passes Ana

In the hall.

Some days

Pietro stares

At his watch,

As if he might be late.

Other days

He files through his books

As if he’s lost his homework.

One day,

While passing Ana,

Pietro looked up

And saw her

Looking back at him.

                                She smiled,

That night,

Pietro wrote in his journal,

“Looking into her eyes

Was like looking

Into two great continents,

And I felt there was a sparrow

In my chest,

Beating it’s wings,

Hoping to fly

Over those continents.”

The next day,

Pietro saw Ana

Coming down the Hall;

And coming near to her,

He thought of dropping

One knee

And breaking into verse.

He thought of telling her,

There’s a bird in my chest

Will you unlock his cage

So he can fly?

As they came close

Pietro looked

Ana in the eyes,

And as she smiled at him,

Pietro dropped

To on knee,       

And tied his shoe.

Love and Gravity

The stairs lead up

To a carpeted hallway

Illuminated by moonlight

Shining in through a little window.

The window looks out over the roof

Of the first story,

Over the neighbors house,

And out into the universe.

The moon is visible.

They say it’s moving further

Away from the earth-

Every year: four centimeters.

It makes sense.

The sun is cooling.

The stars are drifting apart.

I even read once that entire galaxies

Are moving away from one another

And defusing themselves.

It seems the Ouroboros

Isn’t swallowing itself at all

But heaving itself

Away from the primordial unity

It symbolizes; someday

It’ll be face to face with its own tail

And the law of gravity will fail

To hold the celestial bodies together,

Flinging the moon

Into cold, dark, silent space.

In the carpeted hallway,

I walk away from the window

And into the bedroom.

It’s pitch black.

I drag my feet along the carpet,

Feeling my way across the room

To the bedside.

There’s a moan in the dark-

A stirring on the bed.

My lover lifts the comforter for me.

I crawl into bed beside her.

She rolls over.

Pulling myself to her side of the bed

I lay my arm over

The middle of her body;

She takes my hand

And draws my arm up

Under hers;

My wrist between her breasts.

Then, simultaneously

We pull into one another.

I feel her heat,

And her ribs.

Her breath comes in the dark.

The moon slips away from the earth,

Every moment, some measureless distant.

We two humans, hold together, warming

One another in the cold, dark, silent room.

Askia reading at the Falkirk Cultrual Center in San Rafael

Photo courtesy of Tamara Holland

Check out her blog Bean Up the Nose Art at: http://blog.beanupthenoseart.com/

All poetry copyright 2011 Askia Humphrey