Namesake
The Pressures*
by Leroi Jones aka Amiri Baraka
(love twists
the young man. Having seen it
only once. He expected it
to be, as the orange flower
leather of the poet's book.
He expected
less hurt, a lyric. And not
the slow effortless pain
as a new dripping sun pushes
up out of our river.)
And
having seen it, refuses
to inhale. "It was a
a green mist, seemed
to lift and choke
the town."
*from The Dead Lecturer (Grove Press, Inc. 1964)