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Needles, booze, high-steppers / with dangerous eyes. Believe this, brother,

we're dice in a hard time hustle. / No more than handfuls of meat.

 

 

 

Letter to Bob Kaufman

By Yusef Komunyakaa

The gold dust of your voice

& twenty-five cents

can buy a cup of coffee.

We sell pain for next to nothing! Nope,

you don't know me but your flesh-

&-blood language lingers in my head

like treason & raw honey.

I read GOLDEN SARDINE

& dance the Calinda

to come to myself.

Needles, booze, high-steppers

with dangerous eyes.

Believe this, brother,

we're dice in a hard time hustle.

No more than handfuls of meat.

C'mon, play the dozens,

you root worker & neo-voodooist,

you earth lover & hole-card peeper.

We know roads dusty with old griefs

& hot kiss joys.

Bloodhounds await ambush.

Something, perhaps the scent

of love, draws them closer.

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updated 26 April 2008

 

 

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Related files: Letter to Bob Kaufman  Bob Kaufman Bio   Would You Wear My Eyes