Do you know how to change the pitch of silence? It's not a riddle either. You pretend you're just about to go off an one of them, one of those wanna be gallant boss types posing like revolutionaries in capes and newsreels, and then freeze-frame, don't mention it. We're getting even better at letting the stories tell themselves. Without being victims... we're just right—and so the sun shines on black bodies on video tape and the shadow is our silence pitched down to grunt and not even anger, grunt like hunger fulfilled, perfect rigor, and the blunt abstractions melanin on melanin— Resemblant of song /Somebody left out the word dialectic. In order to repeat himself. I and I noticed. We fall in love to find it, we don't need the other/slavery, no more
And despite this atunement to the infinite, you can maintain your free will, I promise
There is a beauty aloof from struggle, but there's also this need in me to call out on radios, and video tape what's your slave name, what's your slave name, till both sides buckle and fold from their knees sobbing and wailing and then the sound dims just enough to make everyone look like a ghetto mystic tumbling across his own shadow into a fix of vogue
