by Stefon Napier12 Jan 2014
Feel the good I say to you
Relish the hand when it does come by.
Have a heart like a tight knit candle and expose yourself to a seasoned wind as you stroll from a Chicago winter street into March.
Wet springs will roll through your threaded gardens
and plump umbrellas will trespass the sky so that your eyes will feel like lonely sugar coyotes howling at the Plain’s children hunger.
With a lamp, the distance between St. Louis
and the moon becomes a quiet kiss between corresponding lovers and a handshake among friends rivals the greatest land in all America.
Safeguard your dawns
because cities will always be awake for the daunting nights and the times may tremble you into werewolf resistance.
Few emblems for myself I confer
but the mightiest one that abdicates its throne willingly in the night air. The sun is my pledge pin to endure willingly my life’s sake and sin.
Willful, though night has become,
it must not overtake me while the days have shadow and the countryside still shows pity to the slave.