Sunday, September 30, 2012

Landmarks

Two boys and a little girl running down the road toward the crossing, giggling. 
They stop running. 
"Hey, Yawl," the bigger boy yells, "Better keep up else I run off and leave you on this side." 

Saturday, September 29, 2012

An admirable day

No frenzy. And the implacable Venus gazes far into the distance at some object or other with her marble eyes

Thursday, September 27, 2012

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Advanced Food

Advanced Jazz



Excessive presence leaves no traces but injustice leaves everything untouched

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Essentials of Grammar



and I /must admit 
that the sea in me
is still/ in love 
with the sea in you
because the sea 
that now sings /in me
is the same sea 
that nearly swallowed you
   and me too

Sunday, September 23, 2012

Saturday, September 22, 2012

The Sudden

snug silence in the middle of the garden

Thursday, September 20, 2012

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Strobe

I began to miss the light like it really is /getting in between two actions: apathy/fascination. People get closer and closer to the beauty of their invention and it tramples them. You can get so close you don't need to say a word. It's blurry without being sentimental like a rebellion in the hood. It's perfect without being good.

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Monday, September 17, 2012

Perhaps we should lose the noun

which renders us nostalgic. Replace traces with tracing and don't call it anything

Sunday, September 16, 2012

Saturday, September 15, 2012

Sharps and Flats

Be embarrassed to talk about being happy, that's ridiculous
But we need you rebel, you prolong our fascination with myth. Drenched in that fascination we get so happy we can't even talk about it without crying-- I'm the rebel. You should apologize to me, you rushed into thinking I was demeaning because the truth had no meaning to you but your contrite blue rhythm and a break in--- something stolen from you like there's music in the air but you can't hear none cause you're numb, so numb and terrible at the purple under your soul desert screaming James Brown's--Try me, Try me. Loops. That's all we like is loops. We narrow the records and arks into a few chords and we really miss our mothers, if we ignore them we become them chords/cores/coercive-arcadia. Let's not ignore them. I once met a fanatical admirer of the railroads, a real leader/rider/sociopath nigga in a slick yellow rainjacket coated in mirrors and austere optimism. I was almost but not quite, home in him. He ignores his mother whimsically. I button my heart back together with blasted green stones from him. That's all we dream in loops. The record swims on its axis like a black man from Baltimore.  Jabbing his arms into a calm azure, wordless quarrel with the rebel. Never been there. I'm exactly where he would want to get to next. The record carries him on its dissociative current as he weeps and rubbs his eyes until they burn and ricochet off the imaginary always with shy arousal. He meant to say how nice it felt to be beside her that day and how silently she was like everyone he ever needed to know and it all felt dangerously close to rebirth and embarrassingly near-happiness. The wave bathes the cliff in foam and retreats



Conjunction 'junction (what's your function)

Friday, September 14, 2012

Thursday, September 13, 2012

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Saturday, September 8, 2012

Some triumphant

Government of the world begins in us. Its not the sincere who govern the world, but neither is it the insincere, it's those who create in themselves a real sincerity by artificial and automatic means. This sincerity is what makes them strong, and it outshines the less false sincerity of others. To be adept at deluding oneself is the first prerequisite of a statesman. 

Thursday, September 6, 2012

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Monday, September 3, 2012

Monk on Time



Our earliest childhood memories are bound up with the sound of dynamite and pride

was like   "I don't want nothin black but a cadillac"

and love 

was like "You niggas are sick for that

self-hate" 

and truth was like "yeah, well, whatchuknow about it." 

... a sudden acute disengagement ... a brilliant corner in the night we raided, muted 

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Nica's Dreams

Is is better to do nothing than to contribute to the invention of formal ways of rendering visible that which Empire already recognizes as existent?





California/Knows how to party

Saturday, September 1, 2012

The heat, this calm, this quiet scene




One man says: Why don't you straighten out and act like a white man

The same man warns: But watch the black extra, a one frame shot on a John Wayne western, slide over and shaft Wayne offscreen.