Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don’t believe I’m wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

There are some millionaires
With money they can’t use
Their wives run round like banshees
Their children sing the blues
They’ve got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody
No, nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Now if you listen closely
I’ll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
’Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

^{for Alison Saar}

Please approach with care these figures in black.

Regard with care the weight they bear,

                      the scars that mark their hearts.

Do you think you can handle these bodies of graphite & coal dust?

This color might rub off. A drop of this red liquid

                      could stain your skin.

This black powder could blow you sky high.

No ordinary pigments blacken our blues.

Would you mop the floor with this bucket of blood?

Would you rinse your soiled laundry in this basin of tears?

Would you suckle hot milk from this cracked vessel?

Would you be baptized in this fountain of funky sweat?

Please approach with care

                      these bodies still waiting to be touched.

We invite you to come closer.

We permit you to touch & be touched.

We hope you will engage with care.