Henry Colonizes Space

Henry lands at Louis Armstrong International Airport,
it’s a trumpet full of spit, a handkerchief,
a black hand, big white smiling teeth,

sweat on the forehead, go ahead,
does everything have to be gold?
The Mississippi eye eye eye eye

all the way to the Gulf of Mexico,
swallowed down the wrong pipe,
gripe slavery, slave gripery.

Henry’s staying in a hotel by the river,
by four am the French Quarter
ain’t worth a plugged nickel,

the Superdome, chrome dome, turtle shell,
shotgun shell, Henry’s here on business---
poetry, just the wrong words,

words, just the wrong poetry,
not all the sweat is wiped off the forehead,
some of it flies into space, space race, new race.