Sunday, April 12, 2015

The Bravado and the Cowardice

As for the archaic lovers trapped in an interminable rose garden     pardon  your fatalism   the weightless shards   of whim   the family  intends  its disenchantment  as a matter of   stolen   fathers   mine    was borrowed    apocalypse apocalypse  

I'm so happy,  I looked at the crowd   I looked at my fans  and     I realized      we are some partying motherfuckers  

But as for the archaic lovers  loose as butter on the hill       I will  have willed it as the rose frays  into  Porgy and Bess   I will have said    I'm less of an opera  goer   then  I bend my dresses  for  him too many black men in prison so sharecrop again   show me   a ghetto robot  that gives   directions to watts    and all those movies  about being and nothingness grow so ornate by the seventies   I am standing between him and darkness and my steady composure frightens us   like   ropes    gnarl into kisses   I think two people alone together  is the bravest  gift   having left it unsaid   do you even understand   it    I have loved you forever   I have never left your side   I am a coward  and isn't that the bravery of me    As for the archaic lovers    young white knuckles   make a whole system  run in step with itself  again     I don't trust the monogamous   I'm indifferent to the moralizing  wives stranded in duty   but the oneness is useful   like a hungry currency   Bill Withers come into me to watch  the father's benevolence    decide   when to matter    as violence