he sat...
in triangular light
reciting the poems of his poetry
my poem brother
my soul brother of languages
he is my brother...
in words
he shares the hard edges of letters 
scratching the insides of his veins
crowding the blood cells 
pushing them out and up into his mouth
shouting sonic booms in syllables
singing sweetly the poems of his poetry

he is dread lion
beating ropes of hair to make the beats of life
the beats of life
the beats of life
the beats of life
3...
points...
of...
life...
life poems of his poetry

he is the sculptor of hands
of crafting music in the various instruments 
of voice/wind/skin and string
the steady thump thump
thump thump
be-bop thump
hip-hip thump
rock thump
jazz thump of the poems of his poetry

he is deep rooted
digging his roots deep into the earth beneath him
squeezing life out of brown dirt
building shelters of linguistics around him
the earthenware cupping his tongue and its secrets gently
and we want to lift the lid to see what lies beneath
what's brewing beneath
forthcoming beneath
to...
taste...
what's...
beneath...
and improve out recipes

he sat...
in triangualr light
speaking the 3 points of life
music
art 
poetry
morphing into the bricks behind him
sinking into the black and white floor
becoming the very room he filled with his voice

he is dread lion
the poet lion
the beat lion of the poems of his poetry
he speaks on the 1s and 2s
the 3's and 4's
1's and 3's
2's and 4's
all...
beats...
he...
strikes...
he makes it right
..right away his speech seeps 
into the soft tissues of ears 
and presses itself against the vocal chords 
of those who sing his praises

he is my poem brother
my soul brother of languages
he is my brother...
in the beats of life
the beats of life
the beats of life...