Morning's Avalanche of Light

October 2025

“Morning’s Avalanche of Light” is at once an elegy and a conjuring of the complex craft that was Danielle Legros Georges’s profound gift—as poet, as seer, as editor, as translator, as friend. Wishing to speak with her is the desire that shapes the field of the poem, its listening and its languaging. What I hope it honors, by way of conversation and chorus, is the beautiful genesis and clarity of her song—she, our ancestor now.

Morning’s Avalanche of Light
in memoriam Danielle Legros Georges

*

in dusk’s bronze drapery   we dwelt
in the divinity 

of our voice    one spiritbody   not close
nor far   but horizon 

-less     scars of aphasia 

light’s stenographer appeared   in her touch   

& “I”   was a floating verb

the root   being relative   the spirit  
being plural

the indefinite   hidden in    time’s
fastidious   de 

-marcations   you could’ve said sky’s
tourniquet was the parading 

of clouds    flashing phosphorescence   
in your brow

anciently we sang you said   the silences 
of our truth

*

inviting us into      ancestors’ songs  

you could see 

what she said she saw        lateday light   

aswirl    in whose gaze 

was difference within itself    the passions 

of Empire’s  in

-dex  brutal the appeal    of our Othering   

re vived & re versed 

thru lungs split by   cross roads across    what fields 

ranging across   the whole of you  

the weight of us   whose years  the in

-terminable   leaf of us

“I give you”   compounds their sentience

& gift

*

the inner-known   outer-place     what wing
auroras

stanzas of memories    echoes of gowns
like holes waves’d made 

of stone       phantom blades of our nativity
as if the speakers 

were speaking thru     blunt to the song 

of their vanishing

creased by whose years   within themselves
in

-between’s ecstatic mis direction   breath’s
immanence

we’d parse   skidding un housed      

on what winds  pulled into shrine house you’d
made

language rent   creole rent   lives that were or are

touch

*

it’s what you wouldn’t’ve been kept from   

the harder sovereign state of limbo   at Huracán’s

edge     the “you” tangled within

the body of     clerical blue

& glacial         departed selves & shores    Atlantics

deposited in books & bloodlines     pre

-occupy   our fragments   of arrival   

& you had come     as raised presence   radiance

in the void of the veil           you sailed

to the corners of the page

where vowel & green mountain meet

cathedral of trees    that solemnly reach   beyond

the “I”       you who un make 

lying there in passages    clear water’s somatic

embrace                when hadn’t we arrived there deciphering

“I” who grieve   & “I” who won’t  dis

remember   antecedent to

& mirroring     torn things & masks        we,

hooded emblems

         of sky

Keith Jones teaches in the Africana Studies Department at the University of Massachusetts Boston and is the author of Echo’s Errand (Black Ocean, 2022) and the poetry chapbooks Surface to Air, Residuals of Basquiat (Pressed Wafer, 2012), the lucid upward ladder (Verse, 2015), Fugue Meadow (Ricochet, 2015), blue lake of tensile fire (Projective Industries, 2017), and shorn ellipses (Agape, 2017). His poems have appeared in Chicago Review, Denver Quarterly, Flag + Void, Harvard Review, sx salon, Transition Magazine, Verse, and elsewhere. His most recent manuscript, titled Las Palmas, won the 2023 Omnidawn Chapbook Poetry Contest and is forthcoming from Omnidawn Press.

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