These are our good ol' jazz labels/ fat bull in gallows I have the same birthday as Hitler sorta close but not quite and Mingus and that white nigga who wrote all the funnys and in black and green we pen a brief history of eugenics shake your seed off the sun plant the hunted soil there where events never occur in the abstract We want to wonder past the point of fact but that cannot occur, never occurs, the images conjured in the heart by wonder turn to facts on contact have another Village session
what happened to Wakiesha Wilson
who could lean on a stoop better than a woman bounces on her knees in court/ or shipwreck acoustics what unjust fantasy are they fixin to free into fact
