by Etheridge Knight

It is a bitch no break
A purple mysterious bitch
To make a poem in this Library
The ghosts of poets escape book covers
And hover over my shoulder
And snitch to their god of the dead
Their words are not much read here
Their memories rust in the mold.
I am alone and cold.
Besides, I am covered with the cloak of Jah
All the gods I follow are women
And they are all living gods
When I seek just one
I look into the eyes of my mother
Or the eyes of my lover

by Etheridge Knight

Posted on the door of Etheridge Knight’s Writing Room
     108 Winthrop Rd Brookline Ma

This / is / the Lair
Of “de smoking Bear”
Enter Ye / all who dare
To breathe this polluted air
( — But, for truth, and for Fair,
It ain’t no / worse in here
Then it is out there.)

by Etheridge Knight

I went to sleep last night with your voice ringing in my ears,
Fell asleep last night, o your voice ringing in my ears —
well, you sounded so lonely and o so full of fears.

I woke up this morning just about the break of day.
O the day was dawning when the Furies started to play.
Thinking about you in Boston — o so faraway.

O I get this jones every time you brush your hair,
Said I get this jones every time you brush your long brown hair,
I know this love of mine will follow you everywhere.

So let’s boogie in Boston, let’s scream and shout, let’s do —
Let’s dance and sing and make our dreams come true.
                                      (softly)

About you and me, and Freedom too —
’Bout you and me, and Freedom too.