Wednesday, October 18, 2017

Moses Sumney, Run

He’s practically bleating like     a   felled    killer    of    sheep.  I   listen  like  I’m    auditioning   to    join    and  I  am.        All my friends     high         on  ketamines    and I’m  starving   the grass    to    protect   it   from    them.   Nitrogen    slender   trojan      horse     hearse    and  hearsay.   Use  protection.  The skin  of   pigs     wet   with    obedience.  Said  no   so   many   times    it    was   like    begging.      Like   what  they    call  negative  capability   meaning,  I         didn’t   know    I   was   capable   of   begging     even   for   my   life     we cannot  be lovers      repeatedly  like   the  least  shy   accusation            begged      true to tribe      and   deregulated    ship   capsized    and   so   many     refugees     alighted   escaping     what   we  shape into likely   stories.    Frivol    and    revolvers          salt     in    the   sky     trying   to  blizzard      and         If    somebody    doesn’t    cry    soon           there      won’t    be    room     in    the      sea               for   Moses    and       me.      This   scream   is    functional.     In  that  way.     A   matter   of  populating   the   landscape          colonizing      it     with     evidence    of     Solomon        who     flies         at     the      end        to     render     beginning                 having   hidden       from    himself.  Having stopped looking, becoming what he needs to see, pitifully triumphant.    That’s   not    what    I  meant     by   use   protection.      No      no  no    no    no      no    no     no    no    no    no              I   demonstrate     or    turn    it    on         and he’s   hugging     the   horse’s    stomach      feeding     it        a      question      scraping    his    answer   across   a   Finnigan     situation     Finna  Finnagen   again     finna    wake   up    I   meant                 This     is     the   kind     of     music    you     can         taste            acrid        with   the  lucky   intensity         of    bulls         when     we   see      red          on     a    lover’s      brow          get    rowdy       retreat          He’s     practically      peeling    the   world      past      this      sleepy       crypto   fascist    what      does      that       mean       doom      grab          the      houses      have   been   leveled     or    unveiled       they     aren’t      houses       they’re    a   battlefield     begging   for sailors        Alert   as   clay      in      last subway     car       with     the     wax   apple     and   the    razor          and   the    babbling    white    girl     he  takes      as   reparations         penance        prey      a slender     indifference     when   she    stabs    him      in    the   stomach            as    if     that    was     the   plan      all    along      

Sunday, October 15, 2017

Thursday, October 12, 2017

Jimmy, run

He    stripped    and    strapped      his     semi-automatics            to   his  bare  black      chest           and    as if      that    wasn’t         beautiful        and     American        enough          some       homemade    dynamite.   Dinah  Washington’s   This Bitter Earth teetering  on the turntable      while    he     asked    who     could     be   like  Micah    but cousin,     who    couldn’t?      Fast  twitch   muscles    bulging     and     gleaming       as  he    marched     through   this   white    suburb     the   Nazi’s    are   coming     but I’m    here     to   protect     and    serve .      Later   in    the   interrogation    room      when   I   couldn’t     remember     who     took    the    first      shot     and      he    tapped     me     on    the     shoulder     grinning     and   sobbing    like   in There  Eyes are Watching  God  .     The   police  weren’t    gonna    kill    my    father        even    if   it      had     to     me              I    got     to   leave   with  Frank  Sinatra      and    all  these    magazines      and  clips       in  the    heat      of     withstanding      could make    me   be    glad     just   to   be    sad     thinking    of    you   

Monday, October 9, 2017

Sunday, October 8, 2017

Joyous Surrender

Rupestral design    in the stuff of sound     and the psyche      of the   universe   in   a    disk      on    her   fingertip     she         lounges      like    it’s        a     life     or    death     mission     to    sit    still      and      watch    the          kid    kiss      his      reflection         hunt       and    kill       his     ghost            she     sits    still    while    the   harbor  hipped     serpent       crosses        limping               I  haven’t   given  up     on     the    serpent        yet   

                    I  haven’t   left      my    pancreas      alone        I      have    yet    to    surrender     thought     to     feeling       when    it    comes       to     being    touched       traced          suctioned     with   the     venom    of        behavior       I  haven’t       tasted        the     poison     yet      and        spit   it   back         at     the   dreading   sun      I   am   someone     unafraid     standing    at     the   nape    a      of    flame      and   wagging    deeper        reaching    Montana       numb     and         acting     heaved       by     some    practical    hunger      pretending      to    crave      what     he     craves       a   stray    mime       of      desire        cause    I     wanna     see        what    I’m       watching        I     want     a   seat   with     my   seed   at    the    table       I    wanna  topple     the   table      and    everything       it    upholds       

                            Make     sense      of   this  boyhood    unraveling        the   desperately     stooped    stance        the     antler     rancid      stench        of      copacetic           black      boy          you       can    get      it        he     can     get   it      I         less        than      whisper        tease        turn         to       catch          his      yearning       eye         cry      blood      to Kyle   Abrahams              Does     the    slave      inherit       a        need    to   be   watched           was   I   past    that     and       making   slaves       like factory       with my seeing             Did     I      slay     my     daddy            before     the    officer    could     or       just     after                 we       lost      the      13th    way             of   looking          close      your      eyes     baby          Ma     gon     be     a     wild     one                     Ma        don’t      confide       in        the      god    of     surrender              but     tempted      by        the     cliff      and       emptied       by     temptation              My   black   chosen      one             My      black     chosen         one         
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Friday, October 6, 2017


Had    me    fooled          I   got  to     the  auction     and     left    talking     windows                a   little   less    broken   than    Angela Yee                Minty        had        sold      me       for   Sandra’s      leased      freedom        on         lease      with   no     option       to     buy.       See       my    name       on    the    bill        in       lead         in     Flint        in         innuendo                  the  soda   dimple      coming    up   even     when     he    frowns           folds        amounts        into            months      and     bloodhounds,       and      bloodhounds