Friday, April 18th, 7:30pm
Poems-For-All presents
CHARLES CURTIS BLACKWELL- - -
The Book Collector. 1008 24th Street, between J & K Streets, midtown Sacramento. 916.442.9295.
www.poems-for-all.com- - -
Poems-For-All is pleased to welcome Charles Curtis Blackwell back to Sacramento. Presently a poet and performer in the Bay Area, Charles once graced the Sacramento scene with his exceptional readings. He comes with a new book of poems, or rather, two vignettes of poetry in one book: "Is, The Color of Mississippi Mud and Lou Next Door." The book's publisher/editor Vincent Kobelt has also been invited to read.
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BIO
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Playwright, poet, performing artist et al Charles Curtis Blackwell has written such plays as "Is, The Color of Mississippi Mud," which was produced in both Washington D.C. and Sacramento, and "Im a Boxer, a love story" , has been published both nationally and internationally. His first book, "The Fiery Response To Love's Callings", was published in 1999. He's been published in Eugene Redmond's "Drum Voices Revue" and has produced three spoken word CDs--featuring Jazz drummer Billy Toliver. He was also affiliated with The William James Assocciation's Arts in Prison Program. Currently he resides in the San Francisco Bay Area where he has organized Writer's workshops and community Cultural Arts events ath the Faithful Fools Agency in the San Francisco Tenderloin.
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ABOUT THE BOOK
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"Otis Redding says, 'Try a little tenderness.' Charles Curtis Blackwell's "Is, the Color of Mississippi Mud" is tenderness laid across the page. It gives us a glimpse of the segregated South tucked next to the banks of the Mississippi ... It is as if he ran his fingers across the welts of American history." -- Vincent Kobelt.
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POEM
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The big-get-tree confronted
by Charles Curtis Blackwell
The moon is stiff, enough to journey up river
In light; the way into the river's
Meeting place
Golden leaves of Harper's Ferry fall smooth
To the touch of fear
So, so well it sits with the April song
Sung in memory of pain
Ropes twine, so; so well, it sits with thee
Prejudice overlapping the days
Venture out west Exodus
Starving the freedom of a new narrative
Sung in submission, to the grave
A wind-wing bird flies under ground
Over the call of gush and ghostly cries
Years in passing comes this haunting
Echo of a tune
"John Brown's ah body
lay ah buried in the grave
John Brown's ah body lay ah buried in dee grave"
The arched over ropes twine,
Gun powder spilled upon railroad tracks
For the asking, it's history to remind
The flutter of whirlwind war; so civil
Tears in crossing so cruel
"Bye-bye, I don't know you," speaks the
colored girl, handed down futuristic thought
We were once referred to as cheap labor/free labor/
even slaves
Drag the river bottom for your SELF;
Seeking historical fact so matter.
For in the eye you behold an illusion
It's so different now
The way the rope untwines
Love lace groans, as the slave of the daughter
Calls out, "Abolishment."
Ignored. Resurrection now in crusade of...
Lover come hither and ease this burden
Running through lily grass in the future.
"Speak to me," whispers the stiff moon,
In the Dark blue, echo/Blue ridge mountain
Escapes...all these words voice,
RUN
RETALIATE
FIGHT
FLEE
BATTLE
REALIZE
Words that rip across trusted barbed wire
Bloody and jaded too.
