Jason Reynolds's Blog

WHEN THEY BURY TONY ALLEN

let there be silence first

just for a moment while we stretch

our skin across this barrel of an earth

this headless and assless cavity

just for a moment while we stretch

our skin across the splintered wood

of history brown from bucktown to trenchtown

just for a moment while we stretch

our skin from trenchtown to lagos

to brixton the epidermis of everything

just for a moment while we stretch

our skin weathered and wonderthick

staple it to the sides of our world tight

just for a moment while we stretch

our hands above our heads high high high

and together

bang the drum

bang the drum

bang the drum

WHEN ORGANIZING BOOKSHELVES

in an effort to move

in an effort to dance

and squat and summon

hip flexors and blades of

shoulders that ain’t cut much

lately besides the air

around my ears

i decided to reorganize

my bookshelf

embellishment is breath

to a poet

i decided to organize

my bookshelf

for the first time

and it’s been a long time

since i’ve seen my friends

when they were young

when we were younger trying

to find language for move

out my way when we were trying

to find language for kiss

and tell the world when we were trying

to find language for fight

atrophied mind and ain’t no

body got time to wait on nobody

who dont know we genius black

stapled pages pixelated word art

for cover autographs in bic blue

that make the hair on my neck ovate

and thicken my saliva

and as i stretch this body and

alphabetize my journey

proud of the spines we’ve made

and the backs we’ve broken and

the pages of future incantations

back when stoops were our stew pots

i wipe dust from my eyes clap clouds

into this world i’ve forgotten

i haven’t made alone and ask

friends how did you know i needed you

friends i’ve missed you so

what now

WORTH IT

drove two hours

yesterday in a car

i rented to buy

a pound of crawfish

from a ghost town

fish joint just

off the bay bridge

i bought them dressed

like i’d come to

steal them ate them

leaning over the trunk

of the getaway

something there a

solace in something

else full of flavor

and spice and juice

being dismembered

HOUSEMAKER

something to be said

about knowing how to arrange

the alphabet into spell

and how to fold a fitted sheet

into square and how to season

a cast iron and a fresh piece

of swordfish and how to choose

a frame and a space on the wall

and a color or two and a

chair or three and a hanger

and move an iron across natural

fibers so wrinkle go smooth and

smooth make me smooth and there’s

something to be said

about knowing how to build a

house with the alphabet and still

not be able to sound out love

A GOOD DAY

i cried today

a cry that felt like

like a barbell in the bottom

of my stomach

and a swallow crawling

up my throat

my father called me

to tell me the cancer

apparently didn’t

love him as much as I do

and i almost hung up

i got so hung up

MIRROR TALK

one day i will say good morning

to the walls that house all this

simple, the shell of this mess

somehow fashioned into maybe man

but mostly scared thing, a lazy

but interesting idea waiting to

be born or at least discussed

as a bonafide possibility

one day i will say to me, i see you,

and i will respond to me, how when im not

here, i will finally say good morning

to an apathetic afternoon parading

as a perpetual first day of

spring, i will say good morning to

what i’ve become, what the world

has made me, there will be a messenger

pigeon in my ear, it will have made

a nest there with ribbons of my eardrum,

there will be shit on my shoulder,

a pile of it, and i will finally see

it and recognize that them aint my

feathers and them aint my wings,

and say and say and say good morning

and that will be the day night

comes earlier than it ever has

and the next day probably wont

THE COMPLICITY OF FOOLS

and what if i say nothing

about the beheading of the world?

a jester swallowing a bloody-handled

sword with the names of my kin

etched in the iron.

will a murderous clap sound the same

with red splat in my eye? is an encore

an honor if accompanied by guillotine?

QUESTION OF INSECURITY

what am i to do with all

the doubt that creeps and cuts my gall?

though angst and jitter can beguile,

i’d let them live with you a while.

for movement can be forward crawl,

and sound is sound if bark or bawl.

so double check, then onward trek,

for canine chipped don’t stop a smile.

THE SHAPE OF MY BODY

a child’s drawing of

a house

square and triangle

rectangle windows

crosses to differentiate

the panes

folded into a paper

plane thrown

sometimes gently

sometimes hard

all the time finding a

wall to break the nose

it changes when picked up

it changes when unfolded

i this body i this house

a creased gobbledygook of

color under the eyes

of a giggling God

APRIL 21, THE LIBERATION OF CAPTAINS (for Prince and Nina Simone)

y’all jumped ship

the same day thirteen years

apart leaving

us here in

choppy and shark-filled

current

our anchors are plastic

our vessel cheap tree and rag

and these days our icebergs

are in the palms

of our hands

but thinking of y’all

yes thinking of y’all

makes me feel like i could

strip naked and howl

a purple goddamn

to these slaves that call

themselves shipmates

scared of both

water and wood