Writings And Other Manifestations of My Mind

 I thank you
 for your one response to the care given
 and for your unstable take on the ribaldry
 we exchanged to bump-start the day
 
I thank you
 for having a strong sense of purpose
 despite the moods of fixity and instability
 that characterize your tenth-month nature
 and
 leave you, a Scorpion/soaring eagle/Phoenix
  at war with himself
  
 Ogni bene oggi, domani, sempre
Copyright © 2007 Trifoglio 
 

Raining and raining all morning long
Raining and raining all morning long
If I had known yesterday what I know today
My tune would be a different song
 
 Sweet angel hear my cry
 Sweet angel hear my cry
 I’ve got to rise up from this misery
 Fly high like the eagle before I die
 
 I dreamed last night I was dancing free
 I dreamed last night I was dancing free
 An inner voice spoke to me in the oneness of sleep
 It whispered “Dance, Trifoglio, let it be”
 
 For eighteen years I’ve entered and exited
 stages all over this terraqueous globe
 New York, Moscow, Boston, Spoleto, Tokyo
 pirouetting, leaping, and lifting some girl
 I moved here and moved there
to melody, harmony, rhythm
telling the world how it feels to be me
I did not speak a single, solitary word 
 just steps, gestures, phrases of feeling, and the joy of 
 moving to rhythm in time, in space 
 
Sweet angel hear my cry
Sweet angel hear my cry
I’m going to rise—yes, I am!
Fly high like the eagle before I die
Copyright © 2018 Trifoglio 

Each a reflection of the other one’s pain
Each a reminder of the other one’s gain
Each a relay of the other one’s dream
Each is a witness to the other one’s scheme

Each is a continuation of the other one’s thought
Each is an extension of the other one’s blame
Each is an explanation of the other one’s game
Each an orator in behalf of our name

Fathers, granddads, uncles, nephews, cousins
Rappers, CEOs, Presidents, husbands, lovers
Each is made from the same template, the same stuff
Each embodies the male principle and specific drive

Our collective lives are one extraordinary story
Of striving for a seat at the welcoming table
Of gutbucket boleros and cutting-edge style
Of last hired, first fired, and sexually desired

One chance this go-round to be wholly yourself 
Take care that your human potential does not lie fallow 
Give testimony to the love feeling in your heart
Consider the examples of James Baldwin and Malcolm X 

These two mannish autodidactics
Acquired the habit of self-examination
Both understood the cause of his frustration
And nurtured the love that begets all other loves 

Both reverenced Spirit in words of affirmation 
Both committed himself absolutely to self-education 
Both fought the good fight in a hostile situation 
Both followed his inner voice into the light

Brother X exposed America’s profound hypocrisy
Brother Baldwin advocated truth, love, and redemption
Both decried anti-life politics lock, stock and barrel
Using their minds, hearts, and mouths just so

We menfolk were gestated inside a female womb 
Our earthly journey will surely end some day
Not a single one of us has fire in his belly forever 
Change and change and change is the way of life

“Act like a man” is what we were told
From childhood to adulthood, and to the grave
I say be a 360-degree male person human being
Instead of a one-dimensional stereotypical dude

Each a reflection of the other one’s pain
Each a reminder of the other one’s gain
Each a relay of the other one’s dream
Each is a witness to the other one’s scheme

Each is a continuation of the other one’s thought
Each is an extension of the other one’s blame
Each is an explanation of the other one’s game
Each an orator in behalf of our name

Copyright © 2012 Trifoglio

Bright green-black whir of wings
June bugs and skeeter hawks zooming
I stopped, stood still, tilted my head
To hear what they had to say
I listened, I saw, I heard
I heard, I saw, I listened
Music within, music without
Growing up in down Ambrose way

Drone of dirt daubers busy, busy
Ma cooking and singing “Will the circle be unbroken”
Daddy in his tool shed hammering together whatnot
Fats Domino on the radio singing about his thrill

The green of farm crops as far as the eye can see
Satilla River, natural lakes, creeks, fish ponds
The gray sameness of unpainted wooden houses
And arabesques of flowerpots on porch railings

Smell of lighter knots burning in the fireplace
Cut grass and creosote tang in summertime
Nectaries of mulberries, blackberries, persimmons
And the aroma of cane juice boiling in tempo

Games of “Billie! Billie! Martin! Sheep are in the garden!”
Ghost stories galore and a high-jumping spree
Nocturnal spectacle of fireflies’ aerial ballet
Continuo of frogs’ and crickets’ evening jamboree

What boogiestompshuffle of Saturday night revelry
What homebrew-hand-clapping buck dance rhythm
What sanctified singing of Sunday morning service
What uplift of foot patting/hand patting in my soul

Big Grandma talked and talked to herself
Sitting on the front porch, rocking to and fro
Sometimes she baked teacakes, sang an old song
Or talked to herself about days long past and gone

“Sometimes I felt like a motherless child”
She began in the key of reminiscence
“We colored folks worked and worked and worked
While that ’ole sun blazed the livelong day”

Whenever I find myself at odds with this changing world
Feeling paranoid and in a real cussing mood
I listen to the mother of all wisdom
Say Yes! to her counsel and count my blessings

Remembering breaks the surface of doubt
And lightens the heavy of my lack-faith humor
It quickens my spirit the way Aretha’s singing does
And reminds me what breathing is all about

This is the pizzicato melody and rhythmic lilt
The foundational song of my I of I
A crepuscular habit, memories galore
My everlasting spiritual high

Copyright © 2012 Trifoglio

Green gives up the ghost
Chilly autumnal weather—
russets, golds and brown

Copyright © 2018 Trifoglio