As Introduced by Madame Bassa:
Mister Fooly blows on a telescope
Tucks away his wings
He sees universes down his throat
And other surreal things.
His Ancestors’ screams are caged there
So are their yells and cries,
Darkened muscles and high yellow skin,
A used up prostitute’s thighs.
Fooly dances for strangers
Or receives lashes on his hands
Thought to be unintelligent
Mr. Fooly has plans.
I am the black, jackass angel
Supposed to find heaven in a box
But heaven is up the hill there
Boarded up by locks.
Mama was a mistress,
Daddy was a crook
Executed when they were found
trying to sound out letters in a book.
Bells jingle from my knee caps,
A fiddle cramps my neck,
Performance my duty
Comedy my lot
There are more levels to me,
Levels so unsought.