Charles Rinehart-Jones is a multidisciplinary artist from Harlem,
New York (USA). Sometimes they are very afraid. Their poetry
has appeared in Wilder Voice and Columbia Journal.


I don't need to make wishes
But sometimes I do anyways
So I can
Meet God for just a second
When I really really want something I
Crush a leaf up in my hand in blame and
Runwalk like a bull
Sometimes when I am tired I take the
Extra wheel out of my car
And roll it and roll it and roll it
So I am exhausted
I smoke my only cigarette of the year
I make a dirty phone call
I cast a spell on the radio so it scans
Just to do something right and I
Spill a hot coffee on my tongue
So I
Tap tap tap it
I follow the map directions backwards
Go to where I had been
Put the tire in and drive home
Then I just sit there
Because we get all our tears
Right at the beginning


Bumps in the night
Like brief moments of joy
Unhappy busy skinny downtowners
They are a clique
A swarm
Where are the cowboys?
Clicking their pistols at a gunshow
But that's just when it floods in
Everything that hasn't been considered


Undersold has gone
The great cradle of blue
That comes before the morning


There were centuries and centuries and centuries
And then there was now

The street king is wondering
How a light could possibly flicker
So many times without any planning
Harmony's fortune is that it's with someone else
The itch on my head it's a
A figment banging
I'm not sure if you know but
Your twenties are for great pretending
Dancing at the ATM
The girls I know want a couple different careers
The boys are the lookouts for the void
They are pouring to spill
They are splinters to the body
Living for the casual night time
Of your eyes closing on the window
They are for the anticipation
Of remembering
Of these great impulses
Before you cast them away
Before you burn them off
Before you give up on them
Nobody wrote anything beautiful about a computer
My confidants tell me their plans
Tell me
What are your plans?

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