"It
is more supple," his mother had told him.
She could make a dog in 2 minutes
and the foreigners would be amazed, try
their own versions and learn
that their hands were like thick dough
through which no beak, wing, or head could grow.
At the end of each creation
his mother would blow air into the body
then rise from her knees, slide open
the rice paper door and let in
the fiat , white moon.
Yusef Komunyakaa
NEWPORT BEACH, 1979
To them I'm just a crazy nigger
out watching the ocean
drag in silvery nets of sunfish,
dancing against God's spine-
if He's earth, if He's a hunk of celestial bone,
if H e's real as Superman
holding up the San Andreas Fault.
Now look Miss Baby Blue Bikini
don't get me wrong.
I'm not the R edlight Bandit,
not Mack the Knife, or Legs Diamond
risen from the dead
in a speakeasy of magenta sunsets perpetually
overshadowing nervous breakdowns.
