i spent
237 waking
hours last week
again today
contemplating
finds amongst
the finest
metaphors
and myriad
ways of waxing
poetic
to express
a fervent
desire to know
your
address

i slept
precisely
7 hours
prior to an
impromptu move
of 3 pieces
of furniture
to a street
in east chatham
where i knew
you once
had resided

i whittled away
2 hours
on the corner
of clark & belmont
engrossed in a
conversation with god
16 paces away
from one
of your favorite
shopping districts

i ate 4 meals
during mid-day
at a vegan diner
on north halsted
where you stopped
to ask directions
towards downtown
before hopping
the red line
to harrison
and dropping
your cell phone

i recited
5 poems
at a black
bookstore
near hyde park
where i saw you
depart with a
brown paper bag
containing
lavender
and jasmine
body butter

i volunteered
10 hours
at a jeffrey manor
community garden
where van jones
held a lecture
and you questioned
the impact
of the green economy
on recidivism

i waited for you
by 1 tree in brooklyn
wanting to know you
beyond the causality
of casual encounters

i want to be
where you are
on purpose

i want to be
the purpose
for where you are

i propose
that you
allow me
2 nights
over 3 cups
of coffee
to offer you 4
basic reasons
why we should
renew our vows
every 5 years
for the next
6 lifetime(s)

Sun to sun & seven days be given
to the making of new worlds
I contemplate truth…
Live by candlelight
Take nothing by mouth
burn orris & myrrh in offering
that thoughts be prayers
for the body of love

Eros is dying, and
where the ghettoization of
black love is endemic
game is concrete—
If
the basic reproduction number is:
Black love
&
the fraction of susceptible casualties is: you + i
then
Probability • Hope = One

Neither death nor increase
Defines inertia
according to (s.i.n.)

“every body perseveres
in its state of being
at rest or moving
uniformly straight, forward
except insofar as it is
compelled to change
by force.”

So longing, I manifest
mendicant, and cope
Tendering the salvaged
thing called art
from a fold-up on 110th
& Morningside—twined
by a memory of trees
and the cadenced laughter
of children
it gifts me
hope

coming away from
where i knew you
revolutionizing a life
here in hegemony, but
still i haunt the steps
over crown heights
craving sweets
agave chocolate &
dream(soy),
you— poetry

witheverysuccessiveoutwardcurve(we)remainsunaltered!

the big(bhang)theory

the aologarithmic