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