Let your children name themselves –Saul Williams  

I just want
to talk with you
sirens interrupt
silence abruptly
before I can finish
what I was saying
and then,
soon as you speak,  

elevator muzak,
grocery aisle
interrupt as you
insert white plugs
into ears intent
more on beats
and lyrics
that resonate
deep within
your newly
evolving soul
I so crave to speak.  

Again, speak
not with fervor,
embarrassing heat,
but instead
with dignity
from your soul
radiating through
your feet.  

And I so hate rhymes
as well as all caps each line  

but in my haste
to capture my craving
to be involved
in your journey
as you withdraw
as you should
punctuations found
within fire drills
at school must be
endured for me
to prepare for you
to leave, as you should
insert parenthesizes
and paragraphs. Chapters
if you absolutely must.
And you must.  

Divide the line.
Continue culture
only as you see necessary
to your own existence
or more importantly,
relevantly, impossibly
what you teach beyond
yourself through stories
to friends, lessons to students,
anecdotes to protégées,
which in itself is such
an awkward term
in the era of tossing
around the word, mentor.

Nonetheless, stories
to protégés are wonderful
in their honesty
and hyperbolic humility.
Hubris a coat worn
in shame. Name yourself.
Rename if necessary.
Echo the moon.
Boomerang beyond Mars.
Forget astronomy
and question authority
and then pay attention
to the stars.