Thursday, December 31, 2015

Wednesday, December 30, 2015

Monday, December 28, 2015

America is wonderful

Wonderful
Wonderful
Wonderful
Wonderful




Wednesday, December 23, 2015

It feels right to me

No flattened affect
No vague mystery 

Monday, December 21, 2015

We are happy amateurs




                                                 Eventually,  because  of    outcry         over


Arabic  calligraphy    homework                       He    was   able   to   go  on  

                                                                                       


                                                                                                                The network
                                                                                                                   The Network   



                                                                                      I  got werk,  I got werk   I got   werk         and  
                                                                                                                                                         sign
                                                                                                                                                         and sing


I put the h on it to let em know it's Niggahs   

                                                                        guzzling   40s  and pissing  niles   and such         endless infatuation with Miles Davis  that will not   end    in    black  eyes    and    such    


                                                                                                                      unilateral  and militant  
readiness    ,    our inherent      readiness

                                                                    to perform   a cure     in empty  cities      

makes  me grin    a giddy   and subdued   swoon   on ritual day  day             How   would    being   afraid   make  me   a better   niggah         of      the  network      I got         werk  I got werk  I got werk                                                                                                          for sure              

Eventually      because  of outcry            

Sunday, December 13, 2015

Saturday, December 12, 2015

He walked off the stage in the wrong direction

In the middle of a set full of his best black shit    Sinatra laughed like a whip   Reminded him of dixie whistling   mingled with georgia snow      cotton   negro                  king    loaded on coke and whips      
                                  Whippin a Range

Whippin an escalade     with    lazy    rims  say, you reckon I       weep into the microphone  like a home   man          ass whippin    backstage nigga    crying     crayon  blue    I used to love yous
                 
                       'told him to turn around and cross in the right direction

Who told him
you, who?


Neurotic nonchalance   not   ours     maybe?  Whose?


Church Marquis   says    Gods        maybe     doctrinaire  jesus    maybe        zoot   parade   maybe

I'm not going back out on that stage                maybe      not      a  blues  for Richard Pryor    maybe   a riot   where we  burn    through  the right side    of  town       this   time          etch     a path    around              the afterlife      aggressively distant     faux suede   ballet flats,    then get   distracted   in    that spotlight

Thursday, December 10, 2015

Monday, December 7, 2015

The slick city people we became after the exodus

Having redistributed god  next man  wistful for profit    our   willingness    our   lottery   bottle   will, collective and singular  / so  sinner / sew  nerves together           into   the lining  linen   Shine   been signing autographs, in the blind name,   daddy had,   and bashful poster     near  the mine   reads :

                                                                                                            We ship to prisons

Picture all our favorite   men    in a   van     on the way somewhere,    subsidized


                                                                                                     We  buy     gold


We ride   the   shy  horses
We are good to think with



And it's still   only   morning
It's  only morning    still
         only  morning

                                                                all these  things   we do   this early,   this easy              remote  rituals  of the village  turned  as  urban      as  barren  



                            Therefore if you value your liberty ; and the welfare of the fugitives among you




Something about how we behave in the darkness is   the total   will  of  our light