towards the songs' pretended sea

(For Blues People)

In the south, sleeping against
the drugstore, growling under  
the trucks and stoves, stumbling  
through and over the cluttered eyes  
of early mysterious night. Frowning  
drunk waving moving a hand or lash.  
Dancing kneeling reaching out, letting  
a hand rest in shadows. Squatting  
to drink or pee. Stretching to climb  
pulling themselves onto horses near  
where there was sea (the old songs  
lead you to believe). Riding out  
from this town, to another, where  
it is also black. Down a road
where people are asleep. Towards  
the moon or the shadows of houses.  
Towards the songs’ pretended sea.

—Amiri Baraka (1934-2013), "Legacy," from Black Magic (Indianapolis: The Bobbs-Merrill Company, 1969).