Joshua Bennett on Hype Machine
Posted by Marion Smallwood | Filed under Announcements
Support Excelano Project Alumnus Joshua Bennett by listening to his latest track: Don’t Let Me Go Feat. AmJay at http://hypem.com/track/1195451. Click the heart to the right of the title to favorite the song and help Josh climb his way up the Hype Machine charts!
roses are red, nigga
Posted by Marion Smallwood | Filed under Poetry, Print
did she curl around your fist, quiet,
obedient strands of hair under your fingernails.
you said real men can’t keep their hands clean.
was her weight submissive and pretty, dragging, wearing that lipstick,
looking like a girl i once knew.
was her throat soft and ready, did your hands fit around it.
was it a surprise, how did you ask her, did she say yes, did she scream.
you know–that’s legally binding in some states.
i promised not to look if he was hurting her
on the street, scaring her into a ball at the bottom of the steps.
i promised not to listen, not to intervene,
to hold my tongue.
but i said that i’d be very upset
and you said you would be too. you said you would be too.
could you see her lipstick peeling,
her palms open in surrender, her goose-flesh shaking.
did she tell you she loves you
without meaning it,
she didn’t mean it. you didn’t mean this.
she looks just like a girl i once knew.
no, not right now.
Posted by Marion Smallwood | Filed under Poetry, Print
i was only watching the curtains burn,
only following the ants under the magnifying glass.
i was only using my skin like tree shade,
only slow dancing from my eyes,
i was staring at the sidewalk wondering what it’s like to fry.
i only wanted to hang over the window,
to tell the morning, no, not right now…
to feel the grip of your hands pull me hard to both sides,
unbutton my blouse, pull it hard to both sides.
i was just waiting for the floor to soften
like cake guts, like a handful of someone else’s hair,
like hot rain on a spiral notebook.
i was loosening the floorboards,
i was reading through the walls,
i was only watching the window fog,
only writing your name backwards,
only waiting for the glass to stop breathing.
don’t tell me what it’s like to have ash in your hair,
to dream debris or to rebel in rubble.
don’t tell me something that won’t still be true after you say it.
that book died of a lit match
and i still got the rest of the pack
so we don’t speak anymore.
you were only setting the curtains on fire,
only praying on a magnifying glass.
Handshake
Posted by Marion Smallwood | Filed under Poetry, Print
i’m a gentleman, you said.
a hopeful romantic, i thought.
a loose eyelash, a fleshy daydream,
a constant reminder to pray.
here’s what went unimagined:
we exchange stories and swap the endings,
hardly noticing how neatly my shoulder tucks under your arm,
or how your hand recites the poetry in my back,
skipping over the lines that are about someone else.
we forget just to practice remembering.
you tell me about my details,
about how entering my flesh is like stepping into the same river twice
about what i feel like midday in july,
you told me which of my smiles is the aftermath of a laugh,
the wreckage is sideways.
we learn each other like we’re something to pass and take again
a great class, a flying color, a love note, the salt from across a long table.
i gotta park in my skull for you to walk through,
a thought in my palm for you to hold—hold that thought,
i promise to be right back.
i promise that things won’t be like they’ve been.
let me show you how much you can carry on that back,
how well you can see in the dark,
what is possible to hear and know and write in a journal.
but the universe is a prankster and timing is everything.
let me tell you what actually happened:
our lips didn’t even touch.
you smiled and i blushed.
you told me the color was crimson
but i didn’t believe you.
you shook my hand and said you were a gentleman.
you told me your name, but i only remembered hers.
the universe has a cruel sense of humor.
it skips to the punch line, shows us the world has fists.
it gambles with a life spread across both sides of a coin.
i wanted him knowing not even the thought of him was mine.
and we all know what happens when you laugh too hard.
