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Jude McPherson

Raised somewhere between the tobacco fields and horse farms of Woodford County, Kentucky, Jude McPherson has been bending and stretching syllables as long as he can remember. A student of life, he blends elements of hip-hop, front porch tall tales and social consciousness into his writing. When no in search of open mics to dismantle, he enjoys the sounds of laughter and phat beats. He currently resides in Lexington, Kentucky, earning a living as an electrician while charting his course towards saltwater breezes.

-exit/us-

for t-

i parted these waxed lips far enough
to struggle over broken & bruised syllables
piecing together a disjointed symphony
of an answer for your question 

what are you thinking? 

i’m thinking that the looking glass
now swallows the silver threaded confessions
that i want to reserve for your cochlea
of how i’m beyond discussions
of past present future
the only time is now
and now i cup soldier’s hands over my ears
trying to stretch the resin
of homegrown kentucky woman tongue
a rocks throw further
because walking this rock alone
has become walking this rock lonely
when you’re not here to teach humility 

i’m thinking that hearing you
while your face cradles my temple
is jah speaking full circle
deconstructing the disillusionment of pain
erecting in its place a voice
lifted from mama natures southern favorites
that smells like woodford county mornings
tastes like elation on the first saturday in may
and speaks truth like dem ol’ heads
rooted to front porch rocking chairs
that creek and crawl come summers time 

i’m thinking of a shining star
how you delayed your departure from my nest
for seven hundred and twenty-two seconds
that we bent with poets tongue
wrapped the very essence of our meeting
while taking patient turns providing respiration
inhale 2...3...4
exhale 2...3...4 

i’m thinking of august
and how the sun hangs on the wall
crossing/popping like b-girl stance
tagging face/cheek/tongue
with nappy heated naturalness
touching my green mirrors
i blinking remixes
her organic needles pausing their ascent
long enough for turntables to rub bellies
inhaling ra cooked kentucky earth
basted in a confederacy of
sweat
saliva
sex
symbiosis
conceiving a star crossed agrarian legend
of how dreads and bald heads go together
like beans & cornbread

i’m thinking of osage orange trees
and rooftop beginnings over the elkhorn valley
and how in times of drought
i try to summon your resin back to my tongue
and irrigate my field of existence
with your country woman’s grammar
drifting to never never lands in backyard hammocks
caring not who sees us fade away into each other
disappearing from this landscape one breakbeat at a time 

i’m thinking of you

 

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