A young artist came into Michelangelo’s studio to show the great master his finished work of art. He did not get the kind of response he wanted when Michelangelo smashed the neophyte’s art project against the wall. Michelangelo looked up and said, “Learn the art of modeling before you learn the art of finishing.” In the ruins lies the discovery, I am not formed, yet, I must study. The road is long and difficult to discovery. This long road is what brought him from the southern shore of Lake Okeechobee in Western Palm Beach County, Florida to New York. He frequents the local spots on the poetry scene. He has more than 15 years as a classroom teacher. Presently he is a curriculum writer for the New York Junior Tennis League.

Hurricane Season

Red hurricane
Can never be tamed
Thriving amid the rubble
You, maker of trouble

Red hurricane
We do need to change
It’s your season
For financial reasons

Oh, red hurricane
They should be ashamed
You boil in the water
You cook when it’s hotter

Red hurricane
It will never be the same
With that evil eye
Always wanting to cry

Red hurricane
Garnered all the fame
They called down your fury
The judge and the jury

Red hurricane
Even in your name
Placed in a category
Create your own story

___________________

The Long Road to Justice
(Thurgood Marshall)

there are so many roads to travel these days,
filled with attraction, but one particular road,
the long road never ends, it winds, it curves,
even spirals, sometimes unfinished pavement
makes travel stagnant, idle; road blocks
often create traffic jams, because of this road,
the long road should open game for on-
coming traffic, like any road-it’s controlled,
lanes are blocked for construction, some traffic
has to merge into one line, to unify,
there are no expressways here, no easy access,
some want to ride the speed lane, to cut the line,
not to wait their time, even road markers are unclear,
fluorescent yellow, kelly green haz-mat signs
are plastered everywhere, they are disregarded,
even ignored, though the speed limit is set,
lead feet accelerates, road rage overtakes,
suddenly collision, causing lanes to be blocked
until help arrives.
___________________

Recount
(tribute to historic Florida)

At the end of the archipelago there is an expressway
where the heat is so hot you better find yourself a
shade tree, plant yourself, then maybe a cool breeze
will pass by. Where saw grass still grows and you better
stop if a family of ducks are crossing the street. The
whole state is fish bowl and we recount those days.

We recount those days while yet in the third grade, the
first time we saw snow, it was historic, wet, bleached,
sand-stoned colored snowflakes fell from the sky.

We recount those days when yachts would dock near Old Port
Cove, when mobile homes crowded Singer Island, eroded
beaches allowed an invasion of lemon sharks, propeller-
marked manatees, and an explosion of mangoes. Wallace’s
ideas are stranded in the Bahamas, lot in the triangle and
Hemmingway’s cats are on a hot tin roof.

We recount those days when discovery was a real as Ponce De Leon.
He discovered me as I discovered myself and conquered my coming of age.
Spanish grandmother would hold her children close, wouldn’t let go.
She named her Florida. Only exotic Cuban plants and red peppers grew.
The smoke is still rising from the Wacissa swamp. No one knew its origin.

We recount those days when bean pickers and corn packers shucked,
shelled, and jived way into the night. Even, Zora went walking up
dust tracked roads. Sugar would drip from the cob of corn. We
settled black muck. It grew everything. Hurricanes and tornadoes would
make their annuals visits blowing Tallahassee roofs and drowning cypress
swamps.

We recount those days when Northern birds migrated,
bubble gum pink flamingos sat proud atop lime green art deco buildings.
Blue herons would wade up Palm Beach Lakes.
Now snow birds just leave their droppings-their snow.

We want to recount all the dead, and the past,
all the graveyards and plots built above ground.
The ones lost at sea when the hurricane and Great Flood came.

We want a recount for Belle Glade, Palm Glade, Palm City, and every palm tree
with a coconut and every nut that fell from grace and made an impact on the ground’s floor.

We want a recount foe FEMA city, Little Havana, Little Haiti, Turtle Key,
and very topless woman, muscle boy, Lancôme babe that struts, strolls, and cruises Ocean Drive.
For Ocala, Tallahassee, Wakulla, Sarasota, Pahokee, and every Native that ran into the swamp
and hid from Andrew Jackson during the Battle of Orleans.

Finally, a recount for the disheveled, dismembered, disbarred, disenfranchised,
and dissed who wash car window for a living carrying big red paint buckets beneath a Miami bridge, only eating a grapefruit and an avocado, drying their sweat-drenched bodies in the coolness of the night. For the drifter, the drifted, the beach bum, the hum drum, the ones who fell overboard, drunk from pain, lost at sea, the sea anemone, the sea spray is only temporary. The sun is the light.
The dolphins will sing and the sea will be green again.

___________________

Caught up with me
(Sunset)

I was always fearful of it. One day I was forced to confront it.
That day I entered the subway tunnel, steamer trunk heat had already taken a seat before arriving. That unusual smell began to fill my nose. I struggled to make an arriving train.
There, crowds of men in blue uniforms, women in white lab coats talking in low huddled voices. Snapping sounds of the camera and police tape made this a spectacle.
I crossed over into literary lines. In a few hours there would be a gay parade,
there would be glitter and cheer.
In a few hours this space would transform to flag waving and self-identity.

That somebody that lay beneath the repeated white sheet placed by unknown hands of a public servant who had no respect for the sanctity of this moment.
The rigor had replaced spirit, replaced breath.
This soul, this unsolved mystery caught up with me.
In this unfenced darkness mistaking morbidity for inspiration chased me down.

This final act was impressive. As they removed the death shroud as people walked by he slumped over in the same position he died in.

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