Forensics Outside of Miles Davis' Jail Cell

There is a rose there/   scarecrow    fearless crow    go on Miles, my scarecrow   hijacked  by exposition  I  mean  there's  a blank   hand    and   a cloying   redened   andthenagain scent      belongs  in it          tentative city  wrong   hint      front row rose   slow   jail bird   blow up  flower  into   4/3rds  of how  

There is an officer  holding a rose  out  for  the   black hero  he just  clubbed    out in front the Vanguard/ club 'bout panic  and art, power  and disaster  far out, man, far out   there  there is an official   rose ducking  between the bars   let's    harder       He's gonna fuck  his wife tonight   when they get     home    tender   then  harder     he's gonna fuck  her up     until she runs   into the subtle    no where yard    for how hard the cop hit him    he's gonna charge at her sobbing with fists in embrace  me     brackets   and carve a mask 
                                                                                                         into  the prettiest   fact   until  she understands    and    

                                                         You don't what love is      (either) 

Willful Sin

The parody of struggle in which a chiseled black man carries a white woman's entire weight on his  bare thighs while she coils around him helplessly he traverses their bloodless stage,  and she comes across too, in that position, the parody needs more velvet and original ideas and gin and liars    and what can willful sin cure  what more can willful sin  cure      

later I witness myself tossing crystals into the blades of a ceiling fan to fade out into the wheels of justice   like   today I was so sexy   as the understudy for that stray mafia mistress if I'd been a little less yellow  the doors may have flung open like   your warrior     plus the doped up cobra always ready to appear when   the basic bling gets into a stupor   feels his mother appear in loose character and dial a rotary  for some  other man  she loved 

                                           Men are never white blackbirds™

And what would our favorite men have done without a common enemy in themselves?  Lived too long like chump buddhas dumping their most suitable myths into the silence as the bodies of special crimes float on good timing—the enemy gave them the sincerity of slaves / again   we imagine their bodies pressed against ours like scars   and this is comfort   and we call the press just as sorrow begets a nuance of euphoria and the lights flash as drums     dirty Sun coming home 

First question   

How did it feel to be away so long? 

Blaze in the glory of fathers and sons / I can't tell who's singing

Jeunesse / On Vanity

I'm better than several  Junes and O'Hara's subtle jinxes    swooning   in the casual  mule/rink   of  too many unions   fucked  into rank  and/then                     god mentions how the very fact of  being human is incriminating  —   black   rapture Rothko's / Africa /  maroon on red       What weapons are left to use against the invisible  /    Imma be a singer  into the            yessuah sweet daddy sungod suh

I don't want to be too thorough   anymore      that was bullshit /  bold glow    of    the sad  toreador   incidental matador (show up as your mother, or)  who  stole his slow  mount from    the moving  picture  circles /  reel, real, worse than true    these    movements  are rehearsed  like       abandonment   again  and   again   in my  sandbox,   Papa,         don't stop   at catharsis


How did I miss that the neutered one was bi-polar, his elegance for a mask   his indifference for a package deal  his satisfaction for his blackness      I crave chicken bones and weave at that steeplechase/opera/  but act all meek about  area rugs falling into the juke box     How did I overlook the abuse    and feel loved    again     so beautiful

I'm so beautiful
is it because I'm so beautiful

Pride song of the pirate (cycle) (1)

http://afrosonics.tumblr.com/post/113825197759/my-other-nigga-is-on-you-off-this-dick-aint

Yessuh sweet daddy sun god soul/ Yessuh suite daddy god sun soul

http://smallblackchurch.tumblr.com/post/113776625855

Every Nigga is a Star

The two Babylons

How much does a dad cost?

Then he got crucified

I was    bye bye blackbird    boss soul pried whole as modal lithograph     how much   are they asking

I have these  free opinions   (three men entering one)   and the inability to wear false diamonds as willingly as real ones ... Sun  Ra hunting riddles from the country preacher's finally speakers loud enough to enclose the club like a total  zoo   I was trying  to buy you too   how much  you gonna cost me  

How much would I go for

The way he attacked those words      made   the porter whisper a smile.... you see us  out here  like servants, yet enjoying ourselves   pretending oppression and austerity are the same thing, they're different,  terrible beaches  linger as dunes      I'm    so  decadent   imma buy him  back   and make   him   work       for   me       do the robot or something  while singing local gospel          Penelope     wake  me when he sells

Real senders

Go home or go to your church

Life is everything (let's touch a road)

What are the black purposes of space travel?

There they were   and they were revolutions    

it's    hard to tell
                           
                                why they were done so casually