The White Boy Shuffle

Like the good Reverend King I too 'have a dream' but when I wake up I forget it and remember I'm running late for work.

It's corny, but I think poems are echoes of the voices in your head and from your past. Your sisters, your father, your ancestors taking to you and through you. Some of it is primal, some of it is hallucinatory bullshit. That madness those boys rapping ain't nothing but urban folklore. They retelling stories passed down from chicken coop to apartment stoop to Ford coupe. Hear that rhyme, boy. Shit, I could get down and rap if I had to. MC Big Mama Osteoporosis in the house.

I rationalized that there are only so many notes and therefore only so many combination of notes, so it stood to reason that there are so many songs.

Our teacher says we're supposed to be colorblind. That's hard to do if you can see color, isn't it?" "Yeah, I'd say so, but I think your teacher means don't make any assumptions based on color." "Cross on the green and not in between.

Marse Compton hadn’t aged but curdled like stagnant milk. His white arrogance had piled and thickened, casting its sour odor wherever he went.

I'd stand still for a few seconds, vainly snapping my fingers with as much hop of catching the beat as a quadriplegic hobo latching on to a moving boxcar.

Thou shalt worship no god other than whiteness. Thou shalt not disagree with anything a white person says. When traveling in the company of a white person, thou shalt always maintain a respectful distance of two paces to the rear. If traveling by car for lunch at McDonald’s with three or more white human deities, thou shalt never ride in the front seat nor request to change the radio station.

city health workers set up camp in the gymnasium to ensure that America would have an able-bodied supply of future midlevel managers ready to lead the reinforcement brigades of minimum-wage foot soldiers to their capitalistic battle stations

When I reached the vestibule of my apartment building, the campus police closed in on me. I heard Professor Edelstein shout, it's okay, he's a poet. Matter of fact, the best black ... the best poet writing today." The cops instantly backed off. I was protected by poetic immunity. I had permission to act crazy.

You either a poet or a homosexual." "Oh, shit, that's fucked up. Why can't I be both?