‘Alive!’ (Z. Hall, 2015) contributes to a conversational space where Skip Hill’s ‘Le Tete’ (2005) and Ralph Ellison’s “Invisible Man” (1952) engage in a concrete dialogue with the reader-viewer-listener about the invisible and those who will not see.
'Le Tete is Alive!' is a collaboration that will be exhibited as part of the first annual Ralph Ellison Festival in Oklahoma City, OK, Film Row District on Friday, February 20, 2015 from 6:30 p.m.-11 p.m. The event features music, art, poetry and more. A reading of 'Alive!' will be featured.
'Le Tete', Skip Hill (2005)
'Alive!,' Z. Hall (2015)
Alive!
I see u watching me
looking at u
seeing me
in constellations
of cari catures
spread across
the expanse
existing
in marginalized lanes
on the right side of
guardrails criminalizing
movingbreathing&thinking
of ghosts
gulping air
when available
for purchase at
the convenience & liquor store
on ev ver ry corner
under streetlights
of 1,369 watts
splitting darkness
in half
taking form
reflections in
the shape and peculiar
disposition of your eyes
confirm I am real
that shit don’t scale
I am yet to come
to my reality as
apart from the Other
tangled in machinations
of multicolored broken glass
on absorbent asphalt
no protections
lives in the balance
measured on scales
rusting & hanging
from high rise dwellings
desolate & cold
I am ev ver ry where
in the world
w h e r e
redemption is
demanded
rehab-ing wrongs
of the interminably
innocent
by reason of
exclusion
from possible
e vil
terrifying calm
blackness of Blackness is
the nickel in the quarter slot
that mark outside the line
raisins in the peanut tin
hated for their honesty
despised for being present
banned inhabitant
danger lies in
awakening sleepwalkers
in dank alleys of transgression
where phantom guided hands
commit atrocities
phantoms whose only sin
is in their skin
unceremonious suicide
dying lifetimes
that the hands might
live, and live
more abundantly
in con scious
uptake of the
good life
poor vision
blame shifting
onto shapes
carved by doers
of the unthinkable
while phantoms
jazz dance to
silent music
mea culpa
their travesty
of complicity in
sickening unto death
implicated by
sustained reflections of
mis-shapened forms
existing in
the mind’s eye of
those who cannot see
the real-life
canvas with no
name.
Do you want to know
what I call myself?
Alive!
looking at u
seeing me
in constellations
of cari catures
spread across
the expanse
existing
in marginalized lanes
on the right side of
guardrails criminalizing
movingbreathing&thinking
of ghosts
gulping air
when available
for purchase at
the convenience & liquor store
on ev ver ry corner
under streetlights
of 1,369 watts
splitting darkness
in half
taking form
reflections in
the shape and peculiar
disposition of your eyes
confirm I am real
that shit don’t scale
I am yet to come
to my reality as
apart from the Other
tangled in machinations
of multicolored broken glass
on absorbent asphalt
no protections
lives in the balance
measured on scales
rusting & hanging
from high rise dwellings
desolate & cold
I am ev ver ry where
in the world
w h e r e
redemption is
demanded
rehab-ing wrongs
of the interminably
innocent
by reason of
exclusion
from possible
e vil
terrifying calm
blackness of Blackness is
the nickel in the quarter slot
that mark outside the line
raisins in the peanut tin
hated for their honesty
despised for being present
banned inhabitant
danger lies in
awakening sleepwalkers
in dank alleys of transgression
where phantom guided hands
commit atrocities
phantoms whose only sin
is in their skin
unceremonious suicide
dying lifetimes
that the hands might
live, and live
more abundantly
in con scious
uptake of the
good life
poor vision
blame shifting
onto shapes
carved by doers
of the unthinkable
while phantoms
jazz dance to
silent music
mea culpa
their travesty
of complicity in
sickening unto death
implicated by
sustained reflections of
mis-shapened forms
existing in
the mind’s eye of
those who cannot see
the real-life
canvas with no
name.
Do you want to know
what I call myself?
Alive!
