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FREEDOMWAYS                          SECOND QUARTER 1973

danced such a dance with his feelings around the Fate of Man
that we could only feed and feed and ask for more...

Within the Heavy Rhymer's pages were sizzling laser love beams,
striking sparks to the bitter-sweet chords of Black and White life...
beams that shot straight from the soul...

There was Harlem there...All the Harlems that ever were,...
in the Heavy Rhymer's rooms...
and Bronzeville and Buttermilk Bottom and African breasts,
dripping bloody milk...
and more, much more than the bound'ries of the Bottom or Harlem or Bloody Milk would ever yield.

There was love, and an enemy name whose game never needed defining...
the Heavy Rhymer never had to...he spelled all of it out obliquely and we knew.

And then, after the darting sharks had been chased 
into oceanic corrals,...
after earth bound birds with silver wings and the noble love of a beautiful man and woman had rumbled up our gut...

We stepped out into the dull, foolish sunshine
and drove away...
heavier, we felt,... from having spent time
in the Heavy Rhymer's rooms.

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