Voices Haiti (Creole): Boy In Blue, Video Poem | Pulitzer Center
Boy in Blue
Words are grouped together behind your teeth; Nearby, the smooth patina, vico magistretti dark brown face lit with the effort: you, boy, carrying the weight of an old man; your body is broken again and again because of injury birth. I follow the wave lasso near you, you are counting words, searching in your heart for the best music- "Sometimes, I wonder why; sometimes I wonder if my mom did this and I grow dark word swallows light around me, and I cry-only sometimes, I cry, and I laughed, I laughed so for a few seconds, I laugh and I cry and I dream again. A drum and incendiary k will launch the liferaft shackle should be easier-a prophet speaks, he tells us why the earth moves, the rubble of our city; even the priest with his soft horse eyes, lips moving rapidly over my skin, even this would be easier than this silence; the dark streets of the city, the heat of my skin, my mother praying shadows, singing in deeper vico magistretti than I will ever go; and when I sing, I know how to fly, and how to get where soothing vico magistretti whirlpool water in my stomach, and this blood is not my enemy when I sing. " We leave you in the growing dusk, rain is heavy odor of air- somewhere beside the palace ruins sky opens up, and the streets flood sound cataclysms, so normal now I imagine you like these children, dancing in the Flood, naked as holiness.
Words are grouped together behind your teeth; Nearby, the smooth patina, dark brown face lit with the effort: you, boy, carrying the weight of an old man; your body is broken again and again because of injury birth. I follow the wave lasso near you, you are counting words, searching in your heart for the best music- "Sometimes, I wonder why; sometimes I wonder if my mom did this and I became dark, word swallows light around me, and I cry-only sometimes, I cry, and I laughed, I laughed so in a few seconds, I laugh and I cry and I dream again. A drum and fire tongues stifling the liferaft should be easier-a prophet speaks, he tells us why the earth moves, the rubble of our city; even the priest with his soft horse eyes, lips moving quickly my skin, even this would be easier than this silence; dark streets of the city, the heat of my skin, my mother praying shadows, singing in deeper than I will ever; and when I sing, I know how to fly, and how to get where soothing whirlpool water in my stomach, and this blood is not my enemy when I sing. "We leave you in the growing dusk, the scent of rain weighs heavily in air- somewhere beside the palace ruins sky opens up, and the streets flood sound cataclysms, so normal now I imagine you, like these children, dancing in the deluge The naked as holiness.
Last January's earthquake destroyed Haiti's health care system, Once at the forefront of the Struggle to treat and stop the spread of HIV / AIDS. A look at life since the quake, for Those Affected by HIV / AIDS.
Grantee
Ghanaian-Jamaican writer and poet Kwame Dawes is the author of More Than the dozen collections of verse, including the critically-acclaimed "Wisteria: Poems from the Swamp Country." Also Dawes is the ...
Topics
Joseph Pulitzer III (1913-1993)
Boy in Blue
Words are grouped together behind your teeth; Nearby, the smooth patina, vico magistretti dark brown face lit with the effort: you, boy, carrying the weight of an old man; your body is broken again and again because of injury birth. I follow the wave lasso near you, you are counting words, searching in your heart for the best music- "Sometimes, I wonder why; sometimes I wonder if my mom did this and I grow dark word swallows light around me, and I cry-only sometimes, I cry, and I laughed, I laughed so for a few seconds, I laugh and I cry and I dream again. A drum and incendiary k will launch the liferaft shackle should be easier-a prophet speaks, he tells us why the earth moves, the rubble of our city; even the priest with his soft horse eyes, lips moving rapidly over my skin, even this would be easier than this silence; the dark streets of the city, the heat of my skin, my mother praying shadows, singing in deeper vico magistretti than I will ever go; and when I sing, I know how to fly, and how to get where soothing vico magistretti whirlpool water in my stomach, and this blood is not my enemy when I sing. " We leave you in the growing dusk, rain is heavy odor of air- somewhere beside the palace ruins sky opens up, and the streets flood sound cataclysms, so normal now I imagine you like these children, dancing in the Flood, naked as holiness.
Words are grouped together behind your teeth; Nearby, the smooth patina, dark brown face lit with the effort: you, boy, carrying the weight of an old man; your body is broken again and again because of injury birth. I follow the wave lasso near you, you are counting words, searching in your heart for the best music- "Sometimes, I wonder why; sometimes I wonder if my mom did this and I became dark, word swallows light around me, and I cry-only sometimes, I cry, and I laughed, I laughed so in a few seconds, I laugh and I cry and I dream again. A drum and fire tongues stifling the liferaft should be easier-a prophet speaks, he tells us why the earth moves, the rubble of our city; even the priest with his soft horse eyes, lips moving quickly my skin, even this would be easier than this silence; dark streets of the city, the heat of my skin, my mother praying shadows, singing in deeper than I will ever; and when I sing, I know how to fly, and how to get where soothing whirlpool water in my stomach, and this blood is not my enemy when I sing. "We leave you in the growing dusk, the scent of rain weighs heavily in air- somewhere beside the palace ruins sky opens up, and the streets flood sound cataclysms, so normal now I imagine you, like these children, dancing in the deluge The naked as holiness.
Last January's earthquake destroyed Haiti's health care system, Once at the forefront of the Struggle to treat and stop the spread of HIV / AIDS. A look at life since the quake, for Those Affected by HIV / AIDS.
Grantee
Ghanaian-Jamaican writer and poet Kwame Dawes is the author of More Than the dozen collections of verse, including the critically-acclaimed "Wisteria: Poems from the Swamp Country." Also Dawes is the ...
Topics
Joseph Pulitzer III (1913-1993)
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