For My Friend Keasley
(Autumn and E-Crew, 25/22)
I.
In my mind—and sometimes
sub-vocally—I say his name
almost every day.
You see, I call my wallet, “Wally
Gator;” my keys, “Keasley Jones.”
I don’t leave home without them—
A memory trick for remembering
things essential.
II.
Moist morning air burns off into a mild
Mediterranean climate; quiet confidence;
soft spoken humility; Artist’s sensitivity…
and walks in Modesty’s moccasins, Compassion’s
cape, Humility’s tights—and does good deeds sans
Fanfare.
Call him Keasley Jones. Go-to-guy for all things
Science. Suave wiseguy with Whole Earth solution
catalogue. The dude I consulted when fantasizing
Nature ventures.
Hands on superhero masquerading as under-
achiever; Sipping Stanford, Odwalla and other
Brands—before mergers and acquisitions. Be-
fore hitting his Pit Pony Hey-
day. Before managing as Swiss Army Knife of
publishing!
I remember him lending his height, helping
hang photos, posters and shadowboxes on
virgin Freight & Salvage walls: Celebrating
20 years of UpSurge!
I remember unanticipated appearances at
Gigs—sage smile, bent down, semi-squat hug;
I remember messages 2 weeks before his
Death asking if I still needed dental work—
I remember his generous response…Flagged
“For poetry and dental work.”
III.
I beg my ‘white’ people—my Euros—forget a-
bout being like Mike, Oprah—or even John
Brown.
Walk in Keasley’s moccasins a minute—
now and then, here and there…Try
Reinventing yourselves as woke *Prison Radio
Mensches—Assistant Saints like him! Refuse
to turn blind eyes of sand-buried heads away
from concertina wired walls of concentration
camps; guard-towered gulags—violent hellholes
of endless torture…
Paddle in Keasley’s kayak a minute—
now and then, here and there… Try
Scouting downstream hungry, unhoused, hurricane-
ravaged peoples having less than you can imagine…
IV.
November 6, 2019 I wrote on Facebook:
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Keasley Jones, and
best wishes for many, many, many MORE…"
Then I perused his LinkedIn titles and skills and
noticed the one not listed that I’m most missing:
Friend…
*Besides serving as Prison Radio’s Publishing Consultant and Office Manager for several years, Keasley was also part of the Peachpit Press/Addison-Wesley team that published Mumia Abu Jamal’s 1995 book, Live From Death Row.
Former forklift driver/warehouse worker/janitor, Raymond Nat Turner is a NYC poet; BAR's Poet-in-Residence; and founder/co-leader of the jazz-poetry ensemble UpSurge!NYC. You can Vote for his work at:
GoFundMe: https://www.gofundme.com/f/the-town-criers-big-tooth-fund
PayPal: paypal.me/towncrierRNT
© 2021. Raymond Nat Turner, The Town Crier. All Rights Reserved.
Four years into his own ordeal as a political prisoner, Mumia Abu Jamal charged Philadelphia’s government with premeditated mass murder in the slaughter of MOVE men, women and children.
Dear Mr. Cole:
Despite the quickening decline of the “West,” the US and its junior partners in imperialism are determined to hold humanity hostage to terminal capitalist greed and violence.
The acrobats are back—riding bareback and backwards on Donkeys! They’re back juggling hocus-pocus focus groups; Back, spinning Wall Street straw into fools’ gold for the war-
The U.S. can never be reformed to render justice to its African residents. “Our struggle must have Africa at its core.”
