It’s always a beautiful moment when you meet a fellow funkateer. One day, at gallery show titled “Collegiate Roots,” an exhibit featuring works by bay area natives and newly rooted folx alike displaying their experiences and connections to HBCU’s and curated by the one and only Sasha Kelley, I happened upon a poet and fellow fonky artist by the name of Ciara Swan. During this event, (sorry, I was ill-prepared and didn’t bring a camera to this event 🙁 ~*a tear*~ ) this one fonky Swan and I shared one of those sparks-flying, did-we-just-become-best-friends moments over the a discussion on funk, The Discourse, and how we both write E’s like chinese 3’s.

I here present to you the first fruits of this connection. #SPACESQUAD !

Shared Space:

Open, open, open
Open, hope in, hoping
Hope and happen, open
Hope n happen
I open hoping you happen to carry some will
Hoping that you happen to ferry some feel
You static soul, you binary and spat up phlegm
You destine hair i touch and scrape food from your mind
You tongue shape velvet i hope to be carried down the casket of deep throat
You c note serenades and
Got me soul searchin and social is what yearnin was// a you and me and
convoluted ornaments needing to be recycled
Telling oral tales of funk culture
You boogie bondage
Im auction block paternalism
We slave psyche
We dare to do
Who dare to be, howlin wolf, like bootstrap was our destiny
Eye travel gainst sun and moon who veil and christen me
Baptized in body soil, born nursing from a crooked sin
We tremblin skins
Akin to finite pleasures
Praying we live through our dreams