Sunday, July 2, 2017

Guided Meditation

Cover the table  in junk newspaper    and shut up about protest  and  communal living and the way it feels to touch thin ink and weep    Picture Cuba Gooding Jr. with those silver balls weaving his palms in Boys in the Hood   Maafa   are you  good    are you    here     and you good    here     Lady be good   be here   and be   good here, do you hear me, ma?  Looking good ma,  thick  and  brothel clover  occipital  killer   but not really    you  want us to live.   It’s 1995  in Compton and you have the nerve  manipulate survival, to call it forth from the sandalwood smoke, to  know how we’ll live when the tension between two greens is hunger  and   it   bit into the grass  like a natural out there on all fours  ass up   testing  the  melasma  of  slurred verdure   I heard the blades  snap on your tongue   I felt the mirrors   home in your mouth   I know   it hurts   and be so proud and beaten  cover the newspaper  in the corpses  of crabs    make a bib of the real estate section  and let their flesh  melt through  you  in some  crude glory in black and white Noriega stripes     do   not  do this  hock the gnawed up grass onto the headlines  and pile  numb  melons  until the sweet stench  collapses     don’t listen  when it acts  as if  there   has to be a naming   of the devil   that’s a trick   don’t call nobody  you don’t want to come