Wednesday, October 19, 2016

Slave / dance

In a panicked   enjoyment   of picnics    I found  guilt behaving  like  agreement :   yes   because I love   what    damages  us     yes     because    I   love  embroidered fable   dresses  made   in Vietnam  sweatshops made in American dreams    ,   what damages us?    Yes because I love  men    even   as   we lose our mothers to  aunt Hester's  scream,  yes because I love Frederick Douglass   yes  because teach  me how to Dougie     bitch /   yaaaaaasss qween   because slang is obscene and beautiful   cleanliness/   yes   because I wore the fable  dress to the club   so dutifully    my  silhouette  amazes   you ,  yes?  New to youth :

At the point of the bayonet and under the cannon fire        Don't  sing in tune to me   sing the pieces    west is   like     listening   to   fertile crescent  wheat mongering and going deaf to your momma,   west  is like    domesticity  turned glamorous by mistake   you're   getting on my nerves   making all these terrible   mistakes     count to eight    in your native  language     gather  eight   racks   of  blue    find me   eight examples   of the centrality of violence in the making of the slave  and reenact them backwards and     you're so lazy   you obey

call that living