Henry Dumas

–Online Poems Essay, Research Paper


TAKE THIS RIVER


We move up a spine of earth


That bridges the river and the canal.


And where a dying white log, finger-like,


Floating off the bank, claws at the slope,


We stumble, and we laugh.


We slow beneath the moon’s eye;


Near the shine of the river’s blood face,


The canal’s veil of underbrush sweats frost,


And this ancient watery scar retains


The motionless tears of men with troubled spirits.


For like the whole earth,


This land of mine is soaked….


Shadows together,


We fall on the grass without a word.


We had run this far from the town.


We had taken the bony course, rocky and narrow,


He leading, I following.


Our breath streams into October


As the wind sucks our sweat and a leaf…


"We have come a long long way, mahn."


He points over the river


Where it bends west, then east,


And leaves our sight.


"I guess we have," I pant. "I can hear


My angry muscles talking to my bones."


And we laugh.


The hood of night is coming.


Up the river, down the river


The sky and night kiss between the wind.


"You know," Ben says, "this is where


I brought Evelyn….


Look. We sat on that log


And watched a river egret


Till it flew away with the evening.


"But mahn, she is a funny girl, Aiee!


But she looks like me Jamaica woman….


But she asks me all the questions, mahn.


I’m going to miss her mahn, Aiee!


"But I will . . . Ewie. Ewie I love you,


But I do Ewie . . . Ewie . . . ," he says


And blows a kiss into the wind.


Broken shadows upon the canal


Form and blur, as leaves shudder again…again


"Tell me this, Ben," I say.


"Do you love American girls?


You know, do most Jamaicans


Understand this country?"


We almost laugh. Our sweat is gone.


He whispers "Aiee" on a long low breath


And we turn full circle to the river,


Our backs to the blind canal.


"But I’m not most Jamaicans….


I’m only Ben, and tomorrow I’ll be gone,


And … Ewie, I love you….


Aiee! My woman, how can I love you?"


Blurred images upon the river


Flow together and we are there….


"What did she ask you?" I say.


"Everything and nothing, maybe.


But I couldn’t tell her all."


We almost laugh. "’Cause I


Don’t know it all, mahn.


"Look, see over there….


We walked down from there


Where the park ends


And the canal begins


Where that red shale rock


Down the slope there . . . see?


Sits itself up like a figure,


We first touch our hands . . .


And up floats this log,


Not in the river


But in the canal there


And it’s slimy and old


And I kick it back . . .


And mahn, she does too.


Then she asks me:


‘Bennie, if I cry


When you leave would you


Remember me more?’


Aiee! She’s a natural goddess!


And she asks me:


‘Bennie, when you think of Jamaica


Can you picture me there?’


And while she’s saying this,


She’s reaching for the river


Current like she’s feeling its pulse.


She asks me:


‘Bennie, America means something to you?


Maybe our meeting, our love? has


Something to do with America,


Like the river? Do you know Bennie?’


Aiee, Aiee, mahn I tell you


She might make me marry . . .


Aiee! Ewie, Jamaica . . . moon!


And how can I say anything?


I tell her:


‘Africa, somewhere is Africa.


Do you understand,’ I say to her,


And she look at me with the moon,


And I hear the

wind and the leaves


And we do not laugh . . .


We are so close now no wind between us . . .


I say to her:


‘Ewie, I do not know America


Except maybe in my tears….


Maybe when I look out from Jamaica


Sometimes, at the ocean water….


Maybe then I know this country….


But I know that we, we Ewie….


I know that this river goes and goes.


She takes me to the ocean,


The mother of water


And then I am home.’


And she tells me she knows


By the silence in her eyes.


I reach our hands again down


And bathe them in the night current


And I say: ‘Take this river, Ewie….’


Aiee, wind around us, Aiee my God!


Only the night knows how we kiss."


He stands up.


A raincloud sailing upon a leak, whirs


In the momentary embrace of our memories….


"Let’s run," I say, "and warm these bones."


But he trots a bit, then stops,


Looking at his Jamaica sky.


"Let’s run the long road west


Down the river road," I say,


"And I’ll tell you of my woman….Aiee."


We laugh, but we stop.


And then, up the spiny ridge


We race through the trees


Like spirited fingers of frosty air.


We move toward some blurred


Mechanical light edged like an egret


And swallowed by the night.


Into this land of mine.


And the wind is cold, a prodding


Finger at our backs.


The still earth. Except for us.


And from behind that ebon cloak,


The moon observes….


And we do not laugh


And we do not cry, And where the land slopes,


We take the river….


But we do not stumble,


We do not laugh,


We do not cry,


And we do not stop….


Online Source: http://www2.mdcc.edu/north/asili/volii_3/nu00031.htm


Copyright ? Loretta Dumas and Eugene Redmond, 1989/99


FUNK


The great god Shango in the African sea


reached down with palm oil and oozed out me.


Online Source: http://www2.mdcc.edu/north/asili/volii_3/nu00031.htm


Copyright ? Loretta Dumas and Eugene Redmond, 1989/99


PEAS


Peas in the pod


peas in my gut


peas in the belly roll


doing the strut.


Blackeyes over


blackeyes down


blackeyes browneyes going to town


Online Source: http://www2.mdcc.edu/north/asili/volii_3/nu00031.htm


Copyright ? Loretta Dumas and Eugene Redmond, 1989/99


YAMS


I made a yamship for my belly with my spoon


and sweet riding jelly bread kept me til noon.


Online Source: http://www2.mdcc.edu/north/asili/volii_3/nu00031.htm


Copyright ? Loretta Dumas and Eugene Redmond, 1989/99


BROWN SOUNDS


brown sound chocolate


memories


like the first time


you saw grapes


and tasted them


and learned the color


blue


brown sound cream milk


echoes


like the first time


you saw bees


and tasted gold


and learned the honey


tongue


brown sound africa


pulses


like the first time


you exploded between legs


and heard drums


and learned the message


of rhythm love


brown sound america


pulses plus pushing


down trees


like the first time


you saw that wild crazy horse


riding through painted deserts


and you learned the grand canyon


red mother


brown sound


black outline


like the first time


like the first time


the first time


is the last time


like that


Online Source: http://www2.mdcc.edu/north/asili/volii_3/nu00031.htm


Copyright ? Loretta Dumas and Eugene Redmond, 1989/99


Click on the link above for additional online poems by Henry Dumas

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