James Emanuel Poems

He dug what she said:
bright jellies, smooth marmalade
spread on warm brown bread.
...

I hear a whistling
Through the water.
Little Emmett
Won't be still.
...

I
My friends do not know.
But what could my friends not know?
About what? What friends?
...

EVERYTHING is jazz:
snails, jails, rails, tails, males, females,
snow-white      cotton bales.
...

A little bit of fool in me
Hides behind my inmost tree
And pops into the narrow path
I walk blindfolded by my wrath
...

To every man
His treehouse,
A green splice in the humping years,
Spartan with narrow cot
...

In tight pants, tight skirts,
Stretched or squeezed,
Youth hurts,
Crammed in, bursting out,
...

When three, he fished these lakes,
Curled sleeping on a lip of rock,
Crib blankets tucked from ants and fishbone flies,
Twitching as the strike of bass and snarling reel
...