David Howard Sawyer

Africa feels cool tonight
here, in the blues note sitting still
in the wind bent
like my ears.

Anacostia feels hot, tonight
out here in takoma park's rain
1 28 73

while the east bay side
of africa is scattered in
calypso feet,
where Santana strums and some sly hum
from the quiet blue eyes in childhood
meets the brown to ask, "What color is


And africa is in heaven tonight
smoking Nigerian hash
my ears grabbing dusk
out of
electric ladylandia's rising suns
where the brown eyes reply

"Black is the color of things to come,
and it's already shining on things
                              you don't see."


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