Sunday, August 30, 2015

Saturday, August 29, 2015

The immortality of innocence

She grabbed the mic like a drowning woman and abruptly closed her eyes

Thursday, August 27, 2015

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

What Jimmy Taught Me

To be yellow born into a household where the black man rules with his fists  and the white wife  body   livid   with   a devotion  hip enough to confuse  trouble with   love    or   whatever   it  was, such the  lucky  one   to come up so unamerican   ,   thankful  one   in whose imagination the  country danger is   so ambient  and precise  of   source   it vanishes    and with each departure  more affectionate    machines   pant   to run the dream between  hope    and  habit  

I wanted to say this more clearly         In what ways  did   watching  your black father beat your white mother   empower   you   as a brown   baby   ?   in  a blue    way      is  there anything   so  cruel   so    crude    as  to say   you felt   each   of your hands   in their  puppet   throats   as they screamed   for help   in   unison   but  only    one  was   hunted  for   room   within the invisible  listener

I wanted to say this more clearly       trustless of a soul  that hadn't   suffered  he tore  hers  toward him

           And I arrived as a kind of vengeance, the many versions of war worn raw by their sex, come to be as the treacherous peace of empty pacts    and broken  chessmen were scattered all over the room  

              It's like being that last person alive

Tuesday, August 25, 2015

Monday, August 24, 2015

Sunday, August 23, 2015

Where the stones give lips to water

In precise and blurry flavors
I've come here to lash out
I've come here to reclaim my tenderness
Which is not linear and I'm trying to remember
the white mink coat I wore on the plantation but it all fades to war paint  and we wake up
in Los Angeles

His   isn't a vacant smile but it leaks  rage   and   lazy  insight
Mine isn't  a shattered praise   but it  returns    aloof from the dream reciprocal   and we still wake up
in Los Angeles

We hit the pitched iowa road like convicts  in his  landless motor    saw a white god in texas  and black one  in  shackles    and  we still woke up in Los Angeles      the choked up mecca of our carbon black masks                                        this  fame      that   ass      etcetera    

Thursday, August 20, 2015

You hear with your bones

Swollen rural lust   and the slow-growing greed of freedom ...

some of us wonder what a drum clinic  would bloom on the plantation and others of us made such  radiant escapes  with our palms   paving the earth  on   rhythm     declension      small mercies

or when she learned her potential children had already been born     electric bodies to trick the seasons        in  olive  black balance     flashes of  a  shoot  out in front of a chicken  shack  make  the voodoo backwards and drummer  fires   through  you   like   food   and   hungry  niggas live  forever, listen    forever      huddled together  in the brush   as shucked crops,    listen   and  otherwise,   close   one     all the way up to his heart  where the bird  flew  out from    mumblin'  something about through   thick  and  thin, listen     his image   window   told   him   he was an opinion   often    beating the   earth   lawless  as  heroes     is   so fun   and  phantom     listen

Sunday, August 16, 2015

One for Kojo Roney

Pretty Danger

A smile or just a folded scream

beguiled by real nigga dreams
and the copy of the aneid we left in the club
shrugging napkin-numb ink, I shrugged too
to the tune of there is no greater love
and this water gives  back no   images 

Friday, August 14, 2015

Monday, August 10, 2015

Saturday, August 8, 2015


I had come to see the superstructure of filth Americans call their way of life

Friday, August 7, 2015

Everything I ever wanted

Some chicken at noon
that criminal ocean
some noon chicken at noon
some chicken come noontime
black potential   so scratchy, sun
we mesmerize and keep glamouring lean
supple blooming tom-tom possibilities   even  /   eve n them
hunt something new to our situation, some chicken
some noon - noon ness  tree chicken crooners for whom
violence becomes confidence      the con charm  of martyrs  is    some of em are polite suicides
the black male leader ones,  unaware  duty from    selenium to  lumbar  remembers  humiliation as a large chicken hung in the memory to spell rebirth backwards, three  hurry  birds   but   that was a movie    shoulders back   neck  free, your co-star is allergic to watermelon, soft song plunged up from the guillotine as when the joy of opposites is a flesh unto itself  

Lee Perry is babbling again      how I am the sky computer mute entropy scene in which he go 360 and Miles, he's trapped in furs    and bitter whispers  and
Nat's rage lurks in blind echoes   make showtunes slave roads
We will not be coerced  into struggling by our taste for blood   and conversation  yet

and besides                     we don't  eat  flesh    and yet      abidingly    I'm  everything  I ever wanted   I promise                       to  get light

Thursday, August 6, 2015

Tuesday, August 4, 2015