a bike messenger
on the bowery took his
white round ring light bulb
halo and threw it in the public trash
(fresh from purchasing a new one at the
hardware store)
i didn’t see him do it
he was behind me
after the reading i found it
fire engine p.a. screamed out
hot cider, hot cider
i could go home and look up the lyrics
god bless the child
who’s got his own
who’s got his own
Amina stood up dark glasses and read
her poem for Ossie; just days had passed
just days
i was listening for the poem
and heard only the
SOUL of it the sole of the Soul whole song Amina--
with that Lament
only tears or
your
husband
could follow
6:40 7th February 2005 on the Bowery after reading by Amiri and Amina Baraka
reportage
whatage
wattage
black
dark glasses
no why know y
mourning
the thee embodie
embody- meant
Muse
he kept sayin’ Amina’s going to read a poem
some poems
hers his whose
please welcome my wife
a tabby cat with a red i.d. and a collar
patrols this bar hops up on the
carved up table
scratchings on the wood
there’s jazz and Amiri invokes that
and there’s scat or riffin or somethin
like somethin’ THAT!
slap like when he
claps his hand and bupa be due dos it
Amiri Baraka and his wife Amini Baraka
introduced by Bob Holman read, sang, lectured,
performed today the seventh of February at
The Bowery Poetry Club.
In the audience were friends, teachers, fellow poets,
students, activists. All colors, all sexes, all ages.
Sounds open, Sounds like fun.
When the teachers are learnin’ and the students are
teachin’ somethin’ is Happenin’ here! Like
the story Amiri told about being the air force librarian
and gettin the Kafka and readin’ questionin’
Beatle’s blare on Nothing is real, nothing to get …about.
Amina sits at a table. Looks at her papers.
Gives a brief introduction …“You know Ossie Davis just
died a few days ago…a friend.” go to the tape
if you want her exact words!
Then I heard the most beautiful Lament I
ever heard. I felt set up. We were supposed to
be getting a poem. She started singing a song.
A song with the words papa may have, mama may
have but god bless the child that got his
own, that has his own.
Fighting back tears seems like a futile thing to undo
when you know they’re coming.
Amina finished the song and eased into the poem.
Word choice? Am I wrong. Pick another word.
after the song the poem
eased
And she couldn’t continue.
And she knew it.
I can’t she said. And returned to her seat.
Sometimes one poem is all you need or
all that’s in you
or all you have to give just then.
The Beatles are blasting you say you want a
revolution here at the grassroots.
Kids are together laughing munching popcorn
and beer talking.
Report from the United Front
~Nathaniel A. Siegel
Nathaniel A. Siegel is a poet, artist, photographer, activist living in New York City. Recent projects include an evening to honor the poet Thom Gunn and a marathon reading of “poets for Peace” at the Bowery Poetry Club during the anti-Republican convention. As part of the group “Poets for Peace”, Nathaniel has read the poetry of Walt Whitman on the steps of the New York Public Library. He marches and chants with hundreds of poets in the streets to call for an end to war. He studied last summer with Alan Gilbert at Naropa University, and makes St. Mark’s Poetry Project and The Bowery Poetry Club his home.
