I Want To Be Like Langston
The hills are too far for my reach
and I am desperately seeking a
way to understand his
words, ideas, and fantasies,
since I am here and he is there.
Life stumbles on like drunken soldiers
and I am dashing from your start
to my finish, wondering just how you
did that. I am lying around
and tempting myself into thinking
that you are at the gate
when all along you were
standing in the window
with your little yellow
pad, jotting metaphors
and dangling participles.
I want to be like Langston
because he knew what the soul
craved and he understood
how delicate words are to digested.
I want to be like Langston because
he understands my need for peace
and the trees that guard my gift
surrounding the culture within these bones.