A Poetic Tribute to August Wilson

Editor’s note: Someone identified only as “KL” sent this to me.  MJD


A Poetic Tribute to August Wilson

(Background music: “At Last” by Etta James)

With a pen…imagination reflects the history along Center and Kirk Aves
where we hustle…they were playing the dozens against the winners and losers
singing the blues in Pittsburgh
August Wilson…he use to hum on paper as he sat on corners coloring the converted, convicted and conceived characters congregating throughout this nightlife
diamonds…or the day-death workers who dream to become the dreams we all bleed…
Reality is a dream indeed.
All we need is smiles and laughter and he laughed at the urban tales we tell of The Hill
These were Black Horizons and August sat along the shore. But only in his mind ’cause he had places to go…a jitney to catch… a story to tell.
Told it so well, now August in April replaces rain showers with theatrical poems and rhythms of Pittsburgh patterns built off of blues sung by saints and sinners swallowed by the same sorrows or celebrations…
The poetic perception of his society was perceived as a performance…
first scene was set when the sun went dim and the light was replaced with lights along the street and you…
You could be the star of his show…
August was in the audience of reality because in the beginning he was a writer, a director, and life
But his award… was to tell his story his way with a pen…to make imagination reflect history along Center and Kirk Ave!
You all ready for a ride?  An August Wilson ride?
Then, he could write… forever!

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