February 25,1964 8:23 PM

‘rumble, young man, rumble’
words rest on the rhythm
his heart makes
to fill the silence in his ears
a surah fills his chest
as fear courses down biceps in crystal ships of sweat
soon he will shake up the world
and shake many out of their sleep
just when alarm clocks become bombs
stereotypes become Viet Cong wrecking empires
Black men become Panthers and Gods
peacemakers get murdered
and friends become betrayed
‘rumble, young man, rumble’
a fitting postscript
for the history his fists
shall soon make.

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