Friday, July 13, 2018

Thursday, July 12, 2018

Bright Pagan in her Pretend Isolation

The  undead  be devious      Their horizon is  silence Their pleasure   a form of doom rhymes with   Adam and union pool  comfort & the eroticization of  the whole personality so that    each swoop of value is a shudder    or muttering rushes of double names emptied by  the sharp thrill of terror the blurring of        belief and laughter in a chapel or more rational      place of worhsip what about a bath of light on the letting           what about the way we ruin everything is nice peaceful generous          dancing alone naked in the privacy of no shame I realized the dawn coming on             I heard the sky switch hues and the loose voice of chorus too

Maafa   you ain’t   pastoral  
    Nor  are you   sidity though     

Nor   home

Nor  anywhere   else

Saturday, July 7, 2018

July 4th on Lake Michigan

The yellow roses tarnished instead of blooming   like they were taking on the trauma of my reunions      all in the mind like snakes wind chimes

Monday, July 2, 2018

Hollow Mountain, That Holy Mountain

Everything I’ve  ever known to be  true is barefoot in grass with me     stomping the chapped geese   feathers. I passed a dead bird.    Then I passed a blue bird. Loose here.  And the bratty tree fingers giggling, churning.    If the monkey in your dream was on a leash it   forecasts happiness in love what a dream book that   was. We made enough money to play with infinity. Enough   monkeys on leashes to call it a wedding. I’m not jaded I’m perfect.    I’m taking today for several walks. The new Drake is awful and   soothing who do you chain to buildings, romance me. We had enough feet   in the grass to get back to get back to back loose / here The crisis is   this brittle nostalgia for where is the bright of nississippi is    the risk is it loose here? His dad beat his mom and him and the overseer beat    his dad he beat my mom and then the old bombs are stored in a hollow   mountain whose peaks pray for obsolesce and I sent him there and now I  dream of rabid animals who turn into men and follow me to that Holy mountain       that hollow mountain I never asked to be a bride I never trusted the ones who weren’t belligerent    and stumbling into to fortunes or furnaces, you know. I fed the baboon in my dream it bit my nipple and screamed with laughter    then flung itself into the explosive hollow of that holy mountain

Tuesday, June 26, 2018

Black Spring: Amnesia

Don’t forget this country has tried to kill me. Don’t forget I haven’t raised my weapon yet. I’m sitting here, knees to my chest, speaking to the waves and gulls. And the rhythm of our hymn is wet with deluge Slim and delusion, deluded expectation, so many drugs and windows until nobody knows the difference between DMT and an empty heart. Flashes of cards and clubs, topdog rubs his laminent, the iron red fingertip of that grips a flush in a mudra for custody. What would you do to save somebody true. I would do that too. We made this pact like George and Lenny but backwards. Don’t forget to kill your father if he heads toward the plantation foaming at the mouth and crying mercy. Don’t forget to get him some mercy.