MAP #86



II. Featured Poetry Theme: Basketball Diaries

1. *New York Sprewell* by Rich Perin

Spre

your step is a new york minute and

heart bigger than

central park

you hold the muscle

of manhattan

and

the neon of broadway

you're the empire state

knifing the moon

the

staten island ferry

skating over hardwood

Spre

since when

does the soul of

American Dream

need a ring?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2. Ivan Miller a/k/a Ivanho

Urban babies in the night

cuddle by streetlights

looking for hugs

but no love

as the streets bring a raw deal

no one around for family meals

as the night breathes inner-city phantoms in flight

Urban babies stick tight

looking for the light

for the light brings safety

from the darkness of the sky

Please let the light come

Please let them see the day dawning

because that is the safe haven

for Urban babies in the night

by Ivan Miller

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3. Chasin Dreams and Dragons by Jazzy

I was slumped over in daze at CCK

Been smokin china white all night and day

Easy company was on the way

with a load of death in the cargo bay

Flyin hard and High in a hostile sky

Chasin Dreams and Dragons

Jazzy(c)1972

4. Ode To Apparel by T. Emmett Mueller

Bow Brummel necktie

breathed a breath,

uncoiled a closet life

from death and snaked

around a telephone.

(or so the story goes)

The narrow end

shaped finger bones

and briskly tapped out

dialing tones to

one - three - six -

five - seven - pantyhose.

She answered

on the second ring,

exhaled a sigh

of static cling,

said, " Sir, your silken

voice thrills me

from waistband

down a nervous knee

and on down to

my sandalfooted toes."

Their dinner date

was sheer delight;

control top stretched

her appetite.

He watched so nothing

spilled or stained

his face.

They fabricated histories,

textiled cravats

and hosieries,

then he suggested

threadbare interlace.

His threshold lift

was most superb.

She draped the sign --

Do Not Disturb,

chemisely purred

and corseted the door.

They joined

in millinery mirth,

released in moans

that moved the earth --

one knotted clump

of rapture on the floor.

© 1999, T. Emmett Mueller

5. Annie Sez by Ruth Solomon

We're just two women sitting

in a white walled bedroom.

A white-skinned woman,

crosslegged on a leopard-skin bed.

A brown-skinned woman

propped in a mahogany chair.

Dogs whirl in play between us as we talk

about heaven, earth, the number

of astral projections experienced,

what death looks like when it arrives

early and lounges about killing time

if nothing else. Then about poetry.

Poetry critics. Influences. Celibacy.

The most polite way to tell someone to go

fuck his/herself because they blame

the poem and not the brain

when metaphors fly out of reach.

(Annie sez she doesn't curse. But I do.)

This is how we get to know

the transparency of each other's skin.

during fits of laughter,

when everything about us is exposed.