Friday, November 18, 2016

A Violent Taste for the Tangible

A black boxer is window shopping at high noon and comes across a pregnant white mannequin, naked, vacant. He stops and about faces, gazes as if he's found christ and the antichrist together reminiscing. The other, the fertile other unfurled. The subtlest muse. Roland Kirk's Salvation and Reminiscing billows up into the atmosphere. Passersby shift furtive glances his way and speed up their gaits. The sun shines like in Camus' estranged Algeria, right on the tears welling up in his eyes. Right on! nostalgia for the future, I. He goes in and tries to pawn a broken quartz crystal for the mercantile statue and when that doesn't work, hurls it over his back and runs down Rodeo whistling I've been 'buked and I've been sold. Keep it secret, keep it safe,  the ancient practice of backwards revenge.     Their baby is black  rich and free       holes patched with copper   eyes hacked by stars