Thursday, April 14, 2016

Fantasy/ Prestige

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