1987

CHAPTER 1

Acid wash Guess with the leather patches, 
sportin the white Diadoras with the hoodie 
that matches. I’m wearing two Swatches and 
a small Gucci pouch. I could have worn the 
Louis but I left it in the house. 

My NGHs Duce and Wayne got gold plates 
with their name, with the skyline on it and the 
box link chain. I’m wearing my frames they 
match my gear with their tint. And you know 
Lagerfield is the scent.

My NGH Rafael just got his jeep out the shop. 
Mint green sidekick. Custom made ragtop. Strictly 
Business is the album that we play. “You’re a 
Customer,” the pick of the day.

CHAPTER 2

There’s a NGH on the block. Never seen him 
before. Selling incense and oils. My man thinks 
that he’s the law. But why on earth would this be 
on their agenda as he slowly approaches the window.

Uh, uh, I’ve seen you before. I’ve been you and 
more. I was the one bearing the pitcher of water. I 
rent the large upper room furnished with tidings of 
your doom or pleasure, whichever feathers decree.

Yo, Ralph, is he talking to me? No I’m talking to 
the sea sons resurrected. I’m the solstice of the 
day. I bring news from the blues of the Caspian”

My man laughs. He’s one of them crazy 
MTHRFKRs. Turn the music back up. ‘Cause 
I’m the E double.’ “Wait, but but, I know the 
volume of the sea and sound waves as I will. 
Will you allow me to be at your service?” 

My man Ralph is nervous. He believes his 
strange tongue deceives and maybe he’s 
been informed that he’s pushing gats,  Hidden 
in the back beneath the floor mats. “Come on 
Jack, we don’t have time for your bullshit or 
playin,  As Salaam A somethin or another.” 
“Wait isn’t Juanita your mother? I told you 
I know you. Now grant me a moment.

CHAPTER 3

At the gates of Atlantis we stand. Ours 
is the blood that flowed from the palms 
of his. Hands on the plow, till earth ‘til 
I’m now. Moon cycles revisited. Womb 
fruit of the sun. Full moon of occasion 
wave the wolves where they run. And we 
run towards the light. Casting love on the 
wind. As is the science of the aroma of 
sleeping women.”

Lost in his eyes.  They soon reflect my 
friends are grinning. But I’m a pupil of 
his sight. The wheels are spinning. “Yo, 
I’ll see y’all later tonight.”

CHAPTER 4

In the beginning her tears where the long 
awaited rains of a parched Somali village.
Red dusted children danced shadows in the 
newfound mounds of mascara that eclipsed 
her face, reflected in the smogged glass of 
Carlos’ East Street bodega.

Learning to love she had forgotten to cry,
seldom hearing the distant thunder in her 
lovers ambivalent sighs. He was not honest.
She was not sure. A great grandfather had 
Sacrificed the families clarity for gold in the 
late 1800’s. Nonetheless, she had allowed 
him to mispronounce her name, which had 
eventually led to her misinterpreting her 
own dreams and later doubting them. But 
the night was young.

She, the first-born daughter of water, faced 
darkness and smiled. Took mystery as her 
lover and raised light as her child. Man that 
shit was wild. You should have seen how 
they ran. She woke up in an alley with a gun 
in her hand. Tupac in lotus form,  Ennis’ blood 
on his hands.

She woke up on a vessel, the land behind her, 
the sun within her, water beneath her, mushed 
corn for dinner. Or was it breakfast? Her stomach 
turned, as if a compass.  She prayed east and lay 
there breathless. They threw her overboard for 
dead. She swam silently and fled into the blue Si.

CHAPTER 5

La So Fa Me Re Do Si. The seventh octave. I 
don’t mean to confuse you. Many of us have 
been taught to sing and so we practice scales.
Many of us were born singing and thus were 
born with scales. 

Myrrh-maids cooks and field hands sang a 
night song by the forest and the ocean was the 
chorus in Atlantis, where they sang. Those thrown 
overboard had overheard the mysteries of the 
undertow and understood that down below there 
would be no more chains.

They surrendered breath and name and survived 
countless as rain. I’m the weather, man. The clouds 
say storm is coming. A white buffalo was born 
already running. And if you listen close you’ll hear 
a humming.

CHAPTER 6

Beneath the surface of our purpose lies rumor of 
ancient rain. Dressed in cloud-face, minstrels the 
sky. The moon’s my mammy. The storm holds 
my eye. 

Dressed in westerlies. Robed by Robeson. Ol’ 
Man River knows my name. And the reason you 
were born is the reason that I came.

CHAPTER 7

Then she looks me in the face and her eyes get 
weak. Pulse rate descends. Hearts rate increase.
Emcees look me in the face and their eye’s get 
weak. Pulse rate descends. Hearts rate increase.

Emcees look me in the face and their eyes get 
Weak. Pulse rate descends. Hearts rate increase.
It’s like ‘Beam me up, Scottie’. I control your 
body. I’m as deadly as AIDs when it’s time to 
rock a party.

We all rocked fades. Fresh faded in La Di Da Di.
And when we rock the mic we rock the mic right.
But left’s the feminine side. Ignored the feminine 
side. 

I presented my feminine side with flowers. She cut 
the stems and placed them gently down my throat.
And these tu lips might soon eclipse your brightest 
hopes.