Spanish Village Poem:: for Jihmye Collins

by Jim Moreno

Poet, word painting painter poet I’ve wanted to paint you with my words a long time, since before the bombing of Iraq, since before our media muffled death cries of flesh torn children. That’s only a piece of war with smart weapons, you know.

I’ve wanted to sit here and create words with you standing here brushing oil paint pictures, dancing crescent moon dream dolphin dance,You over there standing with wet moon brush in hand, wet paint picture portrait in no-thing artist mind. I sitting here listening to your soft, sweet jazz; no problem calling muse, you see muse calls me; you standing at painter’s table, sweet jazz black bass line, grounding your brush strokes, soft play studio main line jazz.

You rest your African earth arm on your Master painter table, And I forget children dying in the sand pile—Steady hand, Steady eye, Practiced eye, (like your poetry— fiery pastel truth word paint), opposite hand grasps wooden table corner—Steady, Steady, Silver ju ju bracelets wrapping strong power forward wrists, photos in your mind transfuse African blood to your sable soil fingers, to your soaring spirit, to your painting ancestors, to your peaceful warrior, to your racist wounds, to your healing love, to your loving, artful brushhhh…transforming red and green equator heat to warm hues and hot tones, warm wet sun hues, rain sun, equator warm breeze, hot color tones, gentle man, gently sweeping green brushhhh, gently brushing green brushhhh, painting wisteria strokes, vining your brush stroke, jazz stroke canvas, fierce prince Duke of music smiling Down on you in glass frame sophistication, bass line running bottom rhythms, running bottom silence riffs transforming dominant society rushed, fast paced no-thing-ness

Over soft yellows, pale greens, sky blues, pastel orange square fanned easels, blending gentle rainbow colors; gray beard, silver earrings, and Black leather cap sheltering your art temple, your sensitive intelligence, your abounding compassion, your learned art of forgiveness, never badmouthing always seeing with painter poet eyes: principles before personalities.

You tell me of your life, of missing fellow poets,we both know and cherish. You stroke your creation purple jug with white Cala lily…You so love the delicate Cala lily, brushing white line down middle jug art temple symbol, peace temple diversity symbol, that is you: full of love, split by pale fire line, ogre line of racism you have overcome.

Your heart container wisteria vine love not forgetting lessons of Jim Crow Southern boyhood, how your family taught you survival skills, how to cope with ignorant bigots like my father, how to survive fear-based hate and live & love to write & agitate, agitate, agitate. As you paint to bass line jazz you express your African/All People love. As you paint to steady stream jazz, you express the opposite of hate, you express the love of O. As you paint to syncopated jazz, you express O…. You express O! You express Oh, let’s stop killing children, ANYWHERE. As you paint to pulsing jazz, as you paint to splash paint jazz, you express, Oh, let’s stop bombing children EVERYWHERE. As you paint, jazz paint man. As you paint. As you paint, As you paint. As you paint.