“Feeling the capacity to be,
to live,
to act,
to pour out the spirit of their souls into concrete and objective form with a high fervor born of their racial characteristics,
they glide through our complex civilization like wailing ghosts;
they spin like fiery planets lost from their orbits;
they wither and die like trees ripped from native soil.”
— excerpt from Book Three: Fate of Native Son by Richard Wright, 1940
that I have known the dead and now I’m
dying
as they spoon the succotash and
noodles
into a skull
past
caring.
that I have known the dead and now I’m
dying
in a world long ago
gone
leaving this is
nothing.
loving it was
too.
that I have known the dead and now I’m
dying
fingers thin to the
bone,
I offer no
prayers.
that I have known the dead and now I’m
dying
dying
I have known the dead
here on earth
and elsewhere;
alone now,
alone then,
alone.
–Charles Bukowski
The Poetry Corner 