Charles Curtis Blackwell was born in San Francisco, attended California State University at Chico and currently resides in Sacramento and Berkley. His work has appeared in various publications nationally and internationally. The play, “Is, the color of Mississippi Mud”, was produced for theatre in Washington DC and Sacramento. Other plays and performance pieces include, “I am a Boxer”, “Rejuvenation of a Beat” and “Blue Streets Danced Down”. Books include Rejuvenation of a Beat; Wrought; If a Pigeon Can't Fly; The Fiery Responses to Love's Callings; Blind Alley Cats Dream Jazz and Is the Color of Mississippi Mud. Charles has been featured at such renowned venues as The Jahva House in Oakland and has produced three spoken word c.d.'s, one of which features jazz drummer Billy Toliver.

This Alabama Town  I. This Alabama town by the river Hear, Dee River, hear dee river, calls Steel wheels rollin', Aluminum falls harder than corn being shucked Like cracking sheets of Ice Five cents a pound, no cotton here picking Loaves and fishes Come, hear dee River, come, hear dee river calling A stiff floats way past the I Street bridge Party hard down, before twelve midnight Wheels roll, shopping carts packed tight Loaves and fishes imagine soothing waters spilled over in january She saw the courtroom jesters Come near dee river, sooth her soul it sways so low She sways lowly with the river II. On a return visit, nine months outta Folsom Steel Wheels roll, filthy shopping cart expired Pounds of fried catfish and carp included, All awaiting the cracking sound of lard hard lovin' Interrupted by courtroom jesters; entertain the greased palms So silky, hardly noticed Yet they can find you or fine There must be tons of fennel along the river banks fist flyin' for three stops after Del Paso and Arden If you're smart enough you'll remain on the Greyhound Way past Lodi Be it racial or right to be right To fight, continues through blood Hoping the fog will hide this angry soul Long dark robe speaks with court signals Labor for the asking and cheaper than sharecropping Away, away form bleeding Epitaph Woman gon' down river Could have walked the Line on J Street And be born again Short Stay See the river sway. After cremation, with no visitors River sways for her River siver sway lonely so lonely the river calls.

Absent from Stone Throwing Pickles and Dimes Run rock - over shadows shaking ground Change has come in the rock quarry    spice me love       Like meat torn from bones          Watered down over flesh                  Smooth as tomato silk One can almost breathe      In a falsehood   A boiling heap of lush     Arouses all of our transit: wondering:      roaming: souls      to beg for more And we wink at the morning Rolling lips, and soothing breast This ginger touch of bitter heat.     Pass me by    The historical whimper is enough        Anger now poured over my skin      and conquered Eye need no money, wrapped in blue, too.      So scream against me      Come here and hide     Touched to enchant        by arms that have never been there before.

Reflections from a Warm Day in May Concerning love and the lovee in me last night I dreamed about my mother Before that I wept in my sleep She took my arms wrapped them around her so comforting as if I were really there Concerning the lovee I wonder where she is arms; absent from plight. A child was handed to me in anger the mother's face in tyranny I felt it were my baby discarded and afraid to touch it I fled homeward bound sorrow per pound Concerning love I could not reckon with my introspection of who am I and what did I do to her the hurtful attempt to rearrange time all of our simple concerns go unwarranted and gracefully we continue after an argument which ran for nights and days beginning on a Sunday after we took communion a simple word of fear defaced imagination revealed to be more deadly than I assumed She slapped me in an acquisition of power. I wept as a man never does in myth trying to define my relationship to love and all the concerns about giving about face, pivot hard, to challenge one's soul In a concern for love and the lovee in me about to be demolished I remained standing in humility until the words ceased having learned from a road less traveled and the sound of a different drummer I bore witness to her tears for I have learned mercy and how powerful it can be now concerning the love and forgiveness in concept measured from hope conquered © Copyright Charles Curtis Blackwell back to Manifestations