Tuesday, June 20, 2017

Monday, June 12, 2017

Sunday, June 11, 2017

New Mutiny

 Looks to me like you’ve been disinherited, mute-chanting   while sirens scatter the will into a dull blade that can be attached to the muzzle of a rifle like a shadow    or  braid joke.  Stray dreadlock at the bus stop/ black on blue/   and grape flavored bayonet   that’s the word, French, daisy hued lemon enunciation of when. I heard you were leaving this country    and   you tried  holding Rockefeller   to   daddy’s     promise    in the corridor of being reasonable       and that he  who could not sing   should be made to sing        and the crow   pecking at synthetic kinky   reggae   would stow ‘way   home           If we start thinking  about the things    that keep us  in  a  place   we know we   shouldn’t be in        and   as the gates   swing    open      jump rope  like boxers   training  in velour short shorts    and spitfire    just to  keep brides  in the jungle    sequestered / the sore lavender nipples of the dairy cows  add a rude dimension to the tasting menu   but that’s   what feeds  you  this sour mold juice, like the tiny yellow hands that piece together these machines    american dolls  and   darn that  charming  cardigan  made  in Stanley Cowell’s   incantatory  shroud of a  winter  power outage  ,  every  shimmering  object  settles    in cold  blood   but    I will not be interrupted of it     I’m sending you two black babies    the greeting card  reads    the wood of the reed splits    like the chief’s  prophecy/mask     Ma remembers    the   one that  sold     her  first      was   it  her father      what is   a   father  bay on  net  lots  of stray turtle   doves     in this tribe,    ruler  and thundering    Beula   sucking  on the missing leg    of  a queen’s   stool,   hers,  aa  fa s   nursing trumpet     was   she   her   father          I will not  be interrupted     even to be my  own   father    watching me   dance   and earn him    a village   even by Black Christ of the Tropics     begging   to learn  his name   in   silver  verses          I  will not be interrupted    I    will  not  be  interrupted

Tuesday, June 6, 2017

Tuesday, May 30, 2017

Thursday, May 25, 2017

Wednesday, May 24, 2017

Red is for Ritual


I can tell when a machinegun sits cocked on whitey’s shoulder from the sightline  from the watchpoint —from the squared close up  on a stoic crowd   of negro cowboys  each one  with bloody M  a a f a   toppling out of his             arms  into colossal  Otis Redding        And if  you ever        oh how grateful I would  be    He  teases   their  urges     an opportunist      what is it about the american  west    drugs  taste   better  , the blood gushing  from  the clone’s veins  sweet as a prop,  the joy  of being watched  overrides the erotic fear of being hunted    and the in their haunted  crossfire  we   can  admit  it to one another,      our disaster survives  Maafa   survives    alongside   the desert  beggars  pretending   themselves   scarce   on  all  fours    in a pond of her genes   she’s  ever   reassembling     she gets  closer    he taps the trigger  is flooded by     a cargo  of  yellow  ribbons   instead  of   yellow women      and  the omen  in women    mellow   as   ever   as  we tiptoe across    the   bloated  ocean    with  machineguns on our shoulders,  heads back, laughing  —    should   have  told  her  you loved her that one   time    ,     should  have    known     bend  from  shine     now   even the timing  of angels        is hysterical    

Friday, May 19, 2017

Saturday, May 13, 2017

Honeysuckle, noble soldier

Dear Babylon,


In the hollow fuse of doomed adventure M a a f a  got fertile as a flickering Novemeber field   and egalitarian   indicating rape   or surrender.  Middle hysterias mistaken for surrender include    sleep love   hunger  prayer  penetration   shredded carrots encased in plastic flickering like descheduled devils horns    empty FEMA caskets buried deep   in the shackled imagination  and the playacting play cousins   whose agape gazes lose track of those playing dead  or replace   them   studiously.  Don’t ask her meaning, ask her use.  I think she had a body or two inside of her when the third one came alive. I know possession works both ways. I’ve known rivals and they perished trying. I know the canoe sinking into the lake hurls debris at the psyche of each silent threat and the cloying Barracudas don’t settle in no coy truce like two cars and four walls and emancipation paper ransom note:  pagan, pilgrim, roll up    glock in hand and bible sandwich.  I know when he called me babygirl a pressure gathered in my chest, a disgusted readiness disguised as pleasure-seeking, a tribal worm writhing from his heart to mine    and no minor island remedy could be so ready as the womb        Babygirl what’s a barracoon     What’s between a miracle and a nightmare  whitenesss ?   where    Yeah baby  right there, split it open      Maafa finna go in on these wings

Wednesday, May 10, 2017

Monday, May 8, 2017

Sunday, May 7, 2017

Hippocampal neurogenesis

Dear Babylon,


Had  you call  me M A A F A       after   the rock cry out.   No longer wanna lick you off  the sides of my mouth and spit you out in rhymes.  Would rather murder you and do my time in dula numerals. I counted tunnels  in the funny junkyard.           counted the minutes I could spend in open air and forced myself illiterate in American values and it was lit.    Neurotic with hip teeth and  a  Thad Jones lisp.          We needed to get outside.  Even if we had we to run up   on a liquor store    promising             I ain’t never  coming  home no more

Thursday, May 4, 2017

Tuesday, May 2, 2017

Fat of the lamb

M   a     a     f   a              f   a  t  i   m   a      and them       watch   the planes   circle      coffins      and skip   dance              in    step               



           ma   tha   fucka           ma    fad    fodda r            locked   up     and   bloodletting        such wretched  survival         

Ma  fa        far   away   rival  of  a veiled    shove of    a crier   back  in the   wailer’s  mouth          


Ma   a  f a   Jonah     and  them           punch   the  pretentious   air    come   candling     into    narrative like      give  or   take    a   few    haints     the train   was  plenty   empty            fa  low    me       


                                                                                                                                                In  leaving         


The Chinese character    for  crisis     means  both      opportunity      and   danger         fa   low        me   in   undervaluing        that   shame         that      planned  burden           Ma  a  f a         and    a flock   them     


Wacka  Flacka    is      woke   as      fuck            when                    flat  much   of     a cousin       secret     lover   


       
        Rubbed   mauve         doves     on Slauson     posing   in    massa   lottery      g  wagon           with   Marvelous        and      unsentimental     clarity    

Sunday, April 30, 2017

Thursday, April 27, 2017

Tuesday, April 25, 2017

Mind and Time


 Mineral      so close to mania     it's a slow   uphill slope    mounting someone's mama  and a mountain    of mammy  figurines       could be the lantern  fallen  incendiary   that lights the path to will      so clenched  as a golden million dollar baby      could be the way   we objectify our dreams together    always feminine    and some violent  entrance disguised  as sensual    some pretty kill 


      My friend flashes a diamond in psychoanalysis  while explaining how her father raped her relentless     the  clock   kicks the hour toward a paycheck   the lithium  is about to run out when a young kid in uganda volunteers  to pull it from the earth in exchange for his silence    This desire to tell a story   where the answer is the dance    is  all  I ever       swore I was kneeling in prayer with a half moon in my belly   wept neatly   a bundle of needles   in a  slow singular drum     

Monday, April 24, 2017

Monday, April 17, 2017

Friday, April 14, 2017

One night I had slept quite deeply / (unboxing) 1



The naked blond barbie  is everywhere    waldo  waldo / so territory     so Jay Versace  squinting in a barrel of expired ruffles    at the army surplus where they house Alameda County homeless and feed them expired food products   and bow    silently  on the way back to townhouses   at     the    way   it feels   taking to the fields   the way it feels to burn them    down      that thrilling and lifelong hunt   for an enemy   will paint  you    will send   you somewhere  funny     to fall to your knees  and mime rude   pageant gospel     or pattie labelle in a different world  or shop   for hospitable    dollhouses           The hose is on in a ghostlike  way     the raggedy   white hyundai is so clean   a meth head can take it  to a fix    with the naked blond barbie   strapped into  the front  seat    oh    baby       didn’t  I feed you   bleach     and seagrams        didn’t    I   pull the lint  from velcro         


  


                                                                    Ain’t that crow  circling stolen  from nabokav    give  it back baby,   return  that       lullaby  like   exactly      aestheticized    sickness    to where it burns  in you   

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

Tuesday, April 11, 2017

Friday, March 31, 2017

Wednesday, March 22, 2017

Sunday, March 19, 2017

Thursday, March 16, 2017

Goldilocks Zone


Astronomers are searching for rocky planets like ours   in the goldilocks zones of other stars   

In the desperation to become  more  like  our  brainwashed selves           I counted five thousand black women with blond hair  and pituatary tumors from  the dye and toner   no recollection        has it  been worth it    this muppet aesthetic?             

Our bodies form based on the spectrum of sunlight they  are  under    every planet creates  beings  like every continent    get closer to the equator and  the mouths  lush as fountains  eyes bending light isles of natural magic in a row of machine addicts    I choose you  and all your miserable comfort   goes     dissolute

When their tans  fade      they could almost  pass     between the two  tropics and get back to their violent wishes        the   house in that fable     is a  black  body      the  moral  is don’t  be a whore     

Ethnic cleansing comes on subtle   all of a sudden   black girls   are all platinum  plato  humming dope in the bushes   he means   a flashing   question  : what brings you here ?    and next thing you know   the chain gang hobbles  along  whistling  dixie  or your body’s so flimsy we could lease it  with no credit  check   

You have pledged such reckless allegiance to this land  can you shake it down  

Monday, March 13, 2017

Welcome to the Slaughter, Children



Whispered: it could not  be dreamed          gutted castles   and heme  group fairytales and the occasional rebel    laugh     factor  the   wind      s   dashing  babble       soft brushes  on metal  cymbals   and the way a liar   folds   into   himself   over  time      trapped in a stranger’s    bible        becomes   a nest of hints   


                      You  see the kephra beatle  always  pushing  up the sun  then beating his chest shouting:    tell me I won   tell me   one    difference  between   hope   and memory         won the movie    !   I won the movie      Turns out it was bootlegged   and not   in HD  and the bright  parts  looked  like interrogations      and the   black men hanging from saturn’s  rings    were  not actually acrobats  or actually   fugitives    they were  just  mapless   trees    perfect maples   spun  into  language in need of me to use them      one   screams :  
                 
                                       This is the next best  thing to being a black woman  another sobbs on command   


Fatten him for winter   catch the human  furniture         too  many  commands     in literature    too few  questions  that  are their   own   answer         Never  anticipate  the voice  on the other  end     what is your  miserable  comfort?   


                                                                                              Step   right   up       step   right      up        
That auction chemistry is critical  and    delicate     

Wednesday, March 8, 2017

Tuesday, March 7, 2017

For real niggas who ain't got no feelings

Helicopter pilots  look  at the sun and the   propellers give them  seizures   


Yes Child,  Sing it   


And the violence of the beat began to calm  the violence in my heart    


Draw me nearer , eyedropper full of clear skies


The stage lights  swung  like   circus   lights    


Get it, gurl          


It's  sad to   see a window   shatter   


Sure  is    ,   matter   of    fact      


ten   just     this          tensile    weekend   of   sundowns        send  someone / anyone   


Did you  let  the sun    catch   you    crying     ?     Send  N  u  d   e   s    


             seen       shy/inklings   


Three times       only    three times    


  the  machine survives   our light   addiction but your stillness falls  from the clouds  to catch it


that was an astonishing surrender


what an astonishing surrender   

such an astonishing          surrender   

Sunday, March 5, 2017

Saturday, March 4, 2017

And sing a sorrow song so tough

 Everybody's  brother    bent over  in Korea    whispered  Jeremiah  at the bloodlined  earth   and came back with a    better  ride     Is that a cow's   ass      or are you   just   happy to see   me      turn  up the volume   on   Miles'   Solea   at the place  where the intensity   gets  unbearable     warm  shards  of   indifferent     air        round    the   delirious   bend   in your   soul     that has   you   screaming   citizen     big  crowd  of them  loud  motherfuckers   with their   inverse  entitlement    and amplified machines    what   is   an   audience    what does  it really  mean to just   watch  this 

I was singing  to hold  up the world         

And If you only   you   knew   how   lighthearted  that is     how far  past   bitter  how   my incessant joy  is   the  cruelest   thing   in    there is     the  only  belonging  worthy  of   the world   built   on endless grief    this     grin    

                       He shows  up    in,  with   his     clumsy   horse   talking   bout   get in   teeth  like   gates and   patience     and I  know I'm no  longer    dreaming       up   citizens   and   great   jungle flowers  in the garden   of what    might  have been     No longer an American like  that        cured  and   drunk   on   relief      humming  and packing    away  my invisible   strings        


For   a second I wondered how I could ever   have lived here     how anyone  had lived  here 

can you shut up about  lust    and  accept your  nakedness   as  sacred   
as   I   have         can you hold   sacred  the nakedness of  another 

He  laughed  again     and    we  made   the  light     




Sunday, February 26, 2017

Sex Tape or Future and Audre Lorde Fall in Love


Despite all their fervor    they were headed somewhere  limp  in the intellect    nursery rhyme dialect   headed  somewhere   all   circumference     hunnid  something for Sumerian  tablet happy meals   where  you get   to munch  the  code-cold   sun  upfront        the rest  when you've   eaten a bit of rat flesh   in the shape  of yesterday    perishing      

                                youth addiction   Future  dreams  of codeine   nibbles the white nipple wedged between him  and his    soul   stice  staaay sis     what  is this?   passes out   on   the battlefield       improviser  /   wisest   man   I  ever     mumbled    alongside          Power   with all the wars      in    it      ain't  shit       in    a   flawed   system      besides     self-destruction     may  all our enemies   become    powerful    and  empty    in   the  west       while  we sell our bodies   these   mumbled   prayers           codeine  ain't got nothin    to   do     with my   love, child     either  

labor   in the holds was painless 
bled  til  the chains lost  their grip   
And there are  tapes  to prove it 

Saturday, February 25, 2017

Friday, February 24, 2017

Compassion can be as various and devastating as the sin of pride

Blood is mostly   water         she thought to herself   catching what he coughed up  on her tongue  and thumbing it   into   cotton    costume     his eyes were  weaving   ,   growing   wings        his   isle was to wobble     ghost    mock   the   omen    most   men     override   in them       their very magic     torment          


How could you send me   here       to the final  broken   image   veering urgent   and  eternal    how could the sweatshirt hold diamond studded reindeer  and still be     casual /   a    munition       illness launched as power  or    the aesthetic of             limpid   stolid   lips  on the wall   hip  as  luck blood   or the new water somelier                                    carving  that bucolic  tunnel   into  the   bolted  will             

Give the black man the freedom  to  be his  own  enemy       
That’ll be the end   of Uncle  Tom   


That’ll bring your daddy back   and all his   guns   and song    

But freedom cannot   be   reformed    

Monday, February 20, 2017

And I just love that plastic horse so much

as in a plant whose roots are not in earth    but in the heavens     my soul  my seven elephants   my  old flame   enters  the lemon  tree and falls off / green    ferments   to  ripen   tastes    tense in glass         like memory :    you no longer have to listen  to a nigga sitting on a couch    

What was the significance of the kool-aid colors, then?  An armor of what kills us gleaming on the outside like a shield    and   no more mumble   rap  whole laugh track cacophony  into wave cap ad    /  clap for me     fuck your couch   /  latitude about  delusion 

And if you objectify all of your experiences    your soul  will seek   revenge in this    as commerce           or take   it  / in blood    

I used to trust   sugar     lust      and  municipal water      I used  be   an easy rider    Cheeto   fuzz so  pretty  like   carrots   but the roots of both left you for dead  or Jimmy Fallon   house band type   wanna be ready      and now come back to Chattanooga  acting brand new    looking to sell America  her own  rotten dream  by becoming   it        such rookie   mistakes    our best black events    such a young way to ruin   

Saturday, February 18, 2017

Tuesday, February 14, 2017

Monday, February 13, 2017

Never leaving las vegas

Sometimes we speak in my head/ a crest of breakthroughs.  You ask what I am wearing and I ask why so much the things from the yard. Stray lace and a marginal luau. You ask what color and I say is the strippers pole also her mirror, green. You say some shit about my mother and I watch you walk into a wall of glass. It shatters and I watch the blood turn to ash. The ice in your drink unites with the poison and before they took the tones out of language there was a word that meant stop poisoning yourself when the ice melts or it will take you along. Sheets of song not sheets of glass. Notes not blood. Corrosive dystopia, strut up your luck. Angela Davis debuts at your favorite strip club. In her fugitive days, lithe as a razor to naked cocaine. She has on her best Betty Davis nasty. The one who got beat not the one who got eyes. Black eyes. Sigh. Got ‘em. All on me. Ever wonder who taught you that need is dirty? Ever kiss one in the mouth?

Deep down we are most proud of the part of us we ruin in solidarity with this endless american winter : the need to be loved by the men we need to love, ruined  as them           ruined as them    

Monday, February 6, 2017

What jesus did

So I, in my own case, in order to become a moral human being, whatever that may be, opted to hang out with whores and junkies, and to stay out of the temple, and this is if course what jesus did too

Sunday, February 5, 2017

Friday, February 3, 2017

The terrifying swiftness of form and action when they are perfect

The fire  ever nearer   slices ice to mirrors     absentmindedly  you find yourself in some mellow eden    lunging toward a buckled shore     the crease in the water wears your last breath  like its taunt, forever       almost        terror parody  almost     fever  era    pony   on the   wall  of an ancient stone    gallops  off  into the crest   and   lapis   and  centerstage suddenly    aloe leaf puss  from the double eyes   of double niggas    find that word in every arena  like home   I find   my baby sister back on her texas pole  shine      they say we have good genes     kind  could be anything  genes    scene and been needed for anything     genes    they  say    the arrow  plays  a joke  on the target   and swerves into its mother    full force      and everybody's   always   alive  some more    is that what we're fighting  for     form     not  just shy    elbows  on a 50s diner counter   oppressed ones tucked in leather swinging from a ceiling  somewhere with poplars    would you walk there with us under a canopy of the rotting flesh   of everything you've  ever run from     had you been hunted  but not  eaten   and what do the millions of us  waiting to be consumed  do  in our huddled truce of luminescence     having been made into fancy pets    blacks  they call us   with  affectionate  disdain     may we bleed the ladder with our  elaborately non committal   pride  maybe we laughed too hard at our own suffering  maybe the clowns  got lonely for a storm 

Monday, January 30, 2017

Sunday, January 29, 2017

Tuesday, January 24, 2017

Friday, January 20, 2017

Mitochondria

Imma name my baby such. Fuck  your lazy syllables.  Might o  con dreamed   up       a praise name.   You know you ghetto if       and I love it.    Dictionary claims  it’s  the   way  we became human, the jaded program   windows’   automatic roll up,  the soda on the side type DNA lesson made fun on the block  in the sun   with the double dutch champion    and the four wheels   on wide feet   hunting for fat ass that knows how to leap that rope   a joyful scuffle that   almost sounds like the sea having been broken    but it’s just sugar and carbon  stuffed in aluminum  burning your teeth  numb    and fast twitch  muscles   saying  higher   nigga     it’s Sunday        call on the numberless      threads  of your one mazed identity  and swallow them whole   bent  dial tones   then    call my baby, flying  

Tuesday, January 17, 2017

4.4.68 Full moon in a Kiln / The martyr tries hard drugs

So now we are all in a poppy field     The entire society is all doped up  on hope   and  I'm about to eat your food, homie      leap out from the crease of cicero  the great orator the toreador roars       my phantom tags me and runs    we are watching the mythos play itself out  watching the heroine as she's made        to touch paper in Harlem with an open hand     across the street from the nigga with the bullhorn   Apollo, sun god   Heliopolis   the last place on the rock    our magnetic field   unburdened         these were career protesters trying to wrack up arrests for credentials  greeting each other:      see you in Vietnam,   tomorrow     these we road hoes  with a puppy and a gun    large fur    lark,  slaughter       the purple  kind     dim wine in a backalley  leaning against   the attack  so it  dances   with   me      so now we are all in this poppy /  field  eating from the bottomless vessel  of   wet light  it's  finally ready  to be Dogon AD    could we celebrate   when they hung  him  turned him into wheel grease      Could we at least  pluck a few orange petals and arrange them in our Afros like fangs     

oh, by the way, 

                                 The sunlight is changed by the moon. The moon is a parasite, We are not moon people.    The moon has nothing to do with us.  The moon is not our friend.   

                                                                                                                  Grace notes (8)  

Tuesday, January 10, 2017

The blood of the thing

I told you love was more dangerous  than   hate.     We’ve  been repeating ourselves since  the late  nt    meaning       behind     our captivity  was discovered  :   We’re   so   loveable    so easy   to love    so easy  to idolize       I told you bible worship  was the same as idol worship      while you feathered  your thumb across my cheek  talkin  bout baby   be my   church n stuff      I told you  danger  lives  longer  than  fear     and set   out   to prove    it      ever seen me look afraid?   Ever  seen  me  say   no to myself  in  the listless  hour  of parting?   Sharp coffee in the morning  and then every few hours until sunset. Nap with head on the marble countertop. Whiff of blunt wrap and car alarm wakes him. Another army band on the box   my god! the needles  sound so holy! Roll me a hinged god spinning so.   I told you sin   was no different than devotion.     They got a wire  on Baldwin  even while he vacations in Palm Springs,   they  watch   him  wake up smoke  shit   fuck   write   suck  the sun out of watermelon    all of it      and get paid too      to   watch        the black dot  move  

Told you they’ll spy on the ghosts when they run out of heroes    turn you into both  and make you  surveill yourself     But just as easy as we could snap into position we cld stay maladjusted, crude in the blood, voweless with dove cut wings    ass to the ceiling   eyes watching god      praise the water that gives back no images         

                                              Grace Notes (seven)   

Wednesday, January 4, 2017

Grace notes (one)

Saw god with her ski mask on in the corner of the mirror / I   where the illusion’s maps spun with guiltless delirium


But before I knew the concept of who and what quote unquote god was    I thought my father was god   fuzzy opera  years    and  wads of eternity


Beneath the glory,   the fatigue  / ecstatic        Lactic acid vs. oxygen      Cesium  cures  cancer                                                                                                                                Chromium
                                                                                                                  Duturium
                                                                    And crawling on our hands and knees  in grass just after a                thunderstorm


       Preparation for  war    


                   Auto-hypnosis               prophethood vs. priesthood and  you was in the pit with the dealers the hustlers the pimps the prostitutes    you’re going to have to master both      uses  of us    


Concert   dance  and  vernacular    dance,   swamp taboo and feral land animal    the body being everything        and   the wooden  African deity  standing in the corner  near the door           to the spirit  it charges      get rid of your treadmill if you wanna survive   the AI  are racist ‘gainst I and I sayers      but am I done killing off my characters for their unforgivable   ?
                 
              Kayne   is a virus  in  the matrix like contracts  and marriage   and broken bibles  /christmas, show me the page it’s on in there,  show me the mall in jerusalem and ice princess cartoon  crooner screaming   buy  me. sell me      


           he caught  that disease like a good black athlete   but he’s one who        deserves a cure   his mother’s revival    and let her cry :


                     diamonds aren’t even rare , my nigga,  but I am        blackman   get your soul back ‘fore yesterday can


Whoever says sister now except the radicals  ?       Insulin breaks down sugar
                                                                                 Lipase breaks down grease   it’s one or the other  for the lazy  
                                                                               
                                                                               human body produces no enzymes to digest meat , flesh really, the dead flesh of other animals, also a virus in the body    responsible for the other viral   orders strolling down   the cold lanes of   sorcery   into righteous conformity    I  honor   the treason that lets me know these things, only  that     unabashed       honor ific    and


The deity in the corner reaches for my hand,  must have heard me ready to save everybody  from their fake     honor killing        but I’m busy  now   smashing skittles onto the pavement in the place of chalk, tracing grace in disgrace til they cuddle walk        husking the spotlights off escape routes and
                                                                   Watching men become the lies they uphold , sucking the virus from their flesh and spitting it at them   that rotten candy        you like that don’t you?
                   falling to my knees in protest    
                                                                                                                        Reparations. Grace notes