Monday, December 8, 2014

As if we are the runners again

Her comments   on the universal   are naive  and Reconciliation  is   leaping     toward me like a violent violet hue          The   tainted  hue     of media   lucky ruthless bluette / it's  supposed   to be     the    20s ,   dread   is prohibited ,  my soldier,  the   legend overindulges   in rare souls and         there's   never one woman     ever        it's   incredible / video goals  /  and         she's   no   hoe   when  she's     in   hell  denouncing   sex without   love elbows to the cellophane  in the enigma melody,   Miles , 58-63 /  the noble , years   the   wife  fell to the floor   and found a well there -   years     liberated  -   elegant     But  the idea of universality doesn't  trouble   you    at all?       That we've all been       drinking  from that one careless stream of each other  and tripping down    the hearts of lenient  gods who pretend to be severe and so singular   like I'm your dearest    lore  or    like  the father   our father       had finally  reconciled  one calling with the other   just in time   to ball them all 

How a genius exploits  silence    for trembling   in that   late night diner   coke down the wrong  pipe  / gonner  / gonna  come back   to  light  the numb  in us  with terror    we trust  well as tenderness      

You can skip this ad in 15 seconds 

I begged him to stay away from jazz    and women  like that    who make   of it    

baffled excuses for the  duty free  future     and truisms  like 

I don't want to see another black man die  

fly down the isle   in   poker  white