Your Runnin' Buddies Became Ikons

After a day at typewriters, you and he

headed for Christopher Street at midnight, where you partied at Brad Cunningham's "55" until 4. In 1969, a place where you might find Gil Evans and Art Blakley standing next to you at the bar.

He became The Emperor of Loisada, with Tribes magazine and a gallery. Upon his death, there was a big parade downtown in his honor. His favorite tune was Billy Eckstine's "I Want To Talk About You." His "cult" novel is being re-issued.

You and she performed in Hansberry's "Raisin In The Sun," Buffalo, New York. While raising a family, she wrote poetry on the weekends. She introduced you to Thomas Wolfe, and she admired Emily Dickinson.

In 2023, the city dedicated a sculpture to her.

He was a jokester who wrote poems on condoms. In the photo
you took of him, he wears a Viva Zapata mustache,

They named part of a street after him.

When a troubled person came at you with a knife, he stood between you and you and your would-be attacker. He is now seen as the predecessor of the Language poets.

You and she used to engage in heated debate every time you met.

They named a dorm building after her.

You and she collaborated on a musical with the name Loup Garou in the title.

A room was named for her at the university where she taught.

You used to take the subway from Chelsea to have lunch with her. In those days, you wore a Burberry coat like a 50s writer standing on a bridge in Paris before Notre Dame. She was raising two boys. She won literature's highest award. Instead of the Bible, they read passages from her novels at funerals.

Love was brief in those days, but once in a while, you got stuck, like

Tar Baby. No highfalutin' sonnet could dress your wounds like Diana Ross.

You and he clung to a jukebox where she hugged our pain

"Baby, baby, where did our love go?"

His collected works were published in 2023, twenty-two years after his death.

She wrote that while in Nigeria, she'd become

a priestess of Oshun, daughter of the waters. She was a healer who absorbed the pain of others and was a healer on the page.

After her death, she became a loa. At her D.C. memorial, her followers were seized by a possession dance. You foolishly insisted she use conventional punctuation.

In her final days, you and she discussed her doing a one-woman show. She didn't finish the project, but she was one

of the great actresses of the last 100 years. She was a Black

Geechee woman, a Mino woman, who traced the influence of African chefs on Southern cuisine.

He used to feed us gumbo. He was tall and lean with Hollywood eyes. He organized a Jazz festival and co-founded a theater. He was a friend of the Tchoupitoulas. In New Orleans, he belongs to the pantheon of "Saints." Every time you visited The Big Easy, you and he would mark your Xs at Marie's tomb.

Your tribute during your lifetime is knowing your runnin' buddies before they were cast into marble and correcting critics

who get them wrong.

 

Printed with permission of the author

Ishmael Reed’s new play is “The Shine Challenge,2024.” Information at Nuyorican.org.