Is my shit correct?

Is my vine correct?

Are my kicks country or correct?

Is my “do” down?

Is my shit correct?

Is my rusty black diction correct?

Should my ever more erudite

utterances be in “The Vernacular?”

Should my presentation be

theatrical and spectacular?

Is my shit correct?

Should my manner be mannered

and laid back?

Is my poetry Posey?

Does it go to too far into haute couture

noire?

Does it come from hard facts

and Fanon,

or does it refer repeatedly

to The Canon trippin’

in Trickster Mode, tryin’

to Trope-A-Dope????

Is my shit correct?

But, hey, black poetry’s got more

than one good way.

The other day I asked a young Blood

poet if my stuff was correct, if it was

happenin’.

He said, Breaklight becomes dawn,

Ol’ Head.  The word “happenin”

ain’t happenin’, ain’t “where it’s at.”

Today it’s on. Word!

Our work is all that.