Telling (the first rite of spring)

Do you do voodoo too

(he asked me on our second date)

While I warmed my palm over the flame

Next thing we knew I was moaning in the hotel elevator, pressing his ring to my folktale/heart--

the price of fame


--

Because they try too hard to be luxury

It's easy to spot imitations of me

They cop obnoxious purses

behave in knots of symmetrical enthusiasm,

and still wear tight jeans,

forgetting why secrets are good hygiene.

It's okay with me, I'll win the way I've always done,

by being gone when they come

but he feels differently

crumples it into scripted upheaval or becomes an imitation of himself

to numb the mania

--

The next morning the New York Electric Street Music rises to the tenth floor

and the truth is important.

I already adore you-- like we've done this before

You wouldn't put pins in me, would you, you wouldn't believe in me so much I exceed you and the excess becomes a wound I dress in fancy dresses with no wrinkles

--

Plus, you know I'm way ahead of you in the magic. I don't even need to practice anymore.

How could we have heard the sound of justice called in by the trauma if it hadn't been improvised by me, to improve us

( and I also thought, I can do the... that you do, easy/frontin' niggas give me heebie jeebies, I am hoodoo, believe me, our myth is our hygiene and a secret blinded by its own truth)

I answered his question absent-mindedly.. Yes, sometimes I do, but I don't call it that. If you call it by its salvation/name, it hides like a deranged animal. Can't we just call this Flying Home

Equinox Stomp ( a liberating cascade of breakdowns)

Be not afraid, the isle is full of noises,
Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.

Break on down, do the boogaloo, make like a penguin, then--

what happened?

Preternatural cheerfulness? A broken claim to connection?

Japanese paper sleeve edition?

Not in a dismissive way, but intentionally.

A sudden declaration of war in the New/ark

What happend. What happend.

War. War.


Don't fight the feeling

The antique blacks are so rare. Captivity parody.

To the masters of the diva stare-down

supporters of Jamie Foxx line of platinum wigs.

the Ray Charles line of shade

Mumbling deejays who know all the words by heart

Startled groupies who know all the hearts by word

Part-time wifeys who don't give a fuck

Riot inciters setting off the truck alarm, car alarm, pharmacy alarm

practically in slow-motion cause we are our own heroes

And some of us are so charming we get bored with it

break it down to one question

May we be acceptable in our own sight

I get a panicky sense that the balance

has already tipped
and I will never again feel free
to pass myself off as a have-not

Counterspells Against Bad Infinity (commercial break)

Everything is bugged (conspiracy is our baggage)

The machine tears speech into pieces,

The way you wanted it, imperfect to be real

Witches, warlocks, computer chips, microchips, and you

The way I wanted it, too perfect too be real

deep, crazy, supernatural bugged out funk stuff

Wear your leather cape, I'll wear my untraceableness, the place is indifferent to us as we've become the place the machine tears us into the safest pieces there is




And we are clear.

Found Poem

I heard that these guys are more iced up than crystal castles, we talkin ice, meth, K, roids, tranq, heroin, tabs, speed, coke, lex, you name it, it's in their system... so seriously dripped is this track, I listened to it about 50 times dancing in my room like Barack Obama dances on the Ellen show, all smooth and chilled out, icing back in the majesty of it all... daaaamn it's got me swingin' something savage. this UK duo is pure prophetic optical inducing brilliance...Mount Kimbie, I heart you

The word was out