The Magic Man



I woke up in the middle of magic
rocked in the cradle of a sixth sense
covered in snake skin
a pattern of diamonds on my back

I woke up in ritual
in new awareness of a beyond now
a freedom to do any thing
(any black) thing my body got hot for

I woke up in the throb of sacred sex
no other body there but mine
and knew I had the capacity for pleasure
in the untouch, the deep down within

I woke up in the eye of a hurricane
the can’t stand still center of a tornado
primed and poised to tear shit up
to break down and build back up

I woke up in the smoke of sage and palo santo
rising from a burning fire set by ancestors long ago

I am the wind of my gay grandfather
breathing down the necks of black men who don’t want me

I am the irreverent and rebellious sass of “Sis”
and you can’t tell me a damned thing to do

I am the horror of a million Jesus-people in my line
pouring my own blood in a cup, breaking myself down for bread

I am my mothers child
and she was magic too

I am the disappearing act of my daddy
and that was a mean kind of magic

I am fairy-cum-priestess in what they call man-skin
Black magic of a feared kind

I am the upside down right side of left
the put it on backwards and walk any which way you want

and when you get right down to it

I been called … and called to … magic
a million different ways
and didn’t even know it

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