The Humming

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there is a humming

I hear

like an African choir

like the early delta blues

I heard it before

in the mirage of July

when I was eleven without permission

discovering the earth

in my PF Flyers

and rusty schwinn, speakers

from my portable radio wrapped

around the handle bars,

American Pie static in the air,

finding the swimhole no one

had discovered I thought

the humming then–a promise

of my future

of adventure

of a brave life

in love with the world

in my teeth

it drones to me at night now

when I can’t sleep

anxious beneath the stars

my smoke breathing

into the black

wake up! wake up!

sing, girl, sing

13 thoughts on “The Humming

  1. sometimes i wish back those childhood days as well when life seemed to be so uncomplicated.. a great capture beyond the visible

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  2. This struck home to me on so many levels, I often find myself in the same shoes, always looking back and remembering some of the vivid childhood memories. Well done!

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  3. This is such an audacious, life-affirming poem. I like that this drive, this hum has been there all along – just that the world and all its malcontents want to to drown it. Don’t let them. Sing, baby, sing! Great job, Mosk

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