Thursday, October 26, 2017

Dizzy, run

Tombe   lentement vers  la    terre           Fall  slowly toward    the     earth  you’ve   been   sent   back   to   repair    yourself           Stravinsky’s   virgin     has      returned    to       dance    herself           into    eternity          We   all   outta    jump     back      and   kiss   ourselves     feel lucky in the swell and  shuck  of  deja vu         we  all    thought     about     leaving          just     to   seize    in   the grandeur of  return      to     notice   something     new    about   the   space     between     the   two    front     teeth      of     queens       on   the    altar     posing     as   wall.    Keep  hearing   flutes    and Lucca,   heard  your   very    own   daughter     had    to   sue      you     to     see    you      bought         before    the   US   Supreme      court        two    blue    bloods:           a  widow   and    a child     divvy    up    Tunisia    while    a      worm    erodes     that eager  dimple  of yours    beneath  the cold  wheel of  karma       makes      a    road       makes      a   stray      makes     a    traveler       makes       another    daughter    of    dust    pushing     an    empty    stroller     across    the   onramp         Why        are     there    so   many     men    in   the  sun    pushing    empty    strollers      from    the   Salvation   Army       so   many       ghosts     in      their   roll   up     on       and      supplies          ponderous  devastation   the   highest   highs are  for the fallen      your   indented cheek    tastes  like    the  shed     skin   of       gnats      your   trumpet         fat   with     maggots      your    widow    fat   with    greed     your   secret  baby    40    and   Ma  a fa   on    her    knees    helping       her     gather     the    last   of    you        and   make   it    say   her   name     

Tuesday, October 24, 2017

Friday, October 20, 2017

Apreggiated Octave

A yellow    rope     around     the    neck      of        a   confederate  soldier’s    statue       is      so       satisfying      like  they  had  dad   imagining   his  lynching  in amber and crow black    when    he   sang    or   begged   for   love,      strangled     everyone who lied         and when         the    stone            man      is     tucked        into          dirt   and    we      cheer                   promise   not   to   miss     the      anger       promise      love      is       rage            and              

murder        is        forgiveness            this    time    

Wednesday, October 18, 2017

Moses Sumney, Run

He’s practically bleating like     a   felled    killer    of    sheep.  I   listen  like  I’m    auditioning   to    join    and  I  am.        All my friends     high         on  ketamines    and I’m  starving   the grass    to    protect   it   from    them.   Nitrogen    slender   trojan      horse     hearse    and  hearsay.   Use  protection.  The skin  of   pigs     wet   with    obedience.  Said  no   so   many   times    it    was   like    begging.      Like   what  they    call  negative  capability   meaning,  I         didn’t   know    I   was   capable   of   begging     even   for   my   life     we cannot  be lovers      repeatedly  like   the  least  shy   accusation            begged      true to tribe      and   deregulated    ship   capsized    and   so   many     refugees     alighted   escaping     what   we  shape into likely   stories.    Frivol    and    revolvers          salt     in    the   sky     trying   to  blizzard      and         If    somebody    doesn’t    cry    soon           there      won’t    be    room     in    the      sea               for   Moses    and       me.      This   scream   is    functional.     In  that  way.     A   matter   of  populating   the   landscape          colonizing      it     with     evidence    of     Solomon        who     flies         at     the      end        to     render     beginning                 having   hidden       from    himself.  Having stopped looking, becoming what he needs to see, pitifully triumphant.    That’s   not    what    I  meant     by   use   protection.      No      no  no    no    no      no    no     no    no    no    no              I   demonstrate     or    turn    it    on         and he’s   hugging     the   horse’s    stomach      feeding     it        a      question      scraping    his    answer   across   a   Finnigan     situation     Finna  Finnagen   again     finna    wake   up    I   meant                 This     is     the   kind     of     music    you     can         taste            acrid        with   the  lucky   intensity         of    bulls         when     we   see      red          on     a    lover’s      brow          get    rowdy       retreat          He’s     practically      peeling    the   world      past      this      sleepy       crypto   fascist    what      does      that       mean       doom      grab          the      houses      have   been   leveled     or    unveiled       they     aren’t      houses       they’re    a   battlefield     begging   for sailors        Alert   as   clay      in      last subway     car       with     the     wax   apple     and   the    razor          and   the    babbling    white    girl     he  takes      as   reparations         penance        prey      a slender     indifference     when   she    stabs    him      in    the   stomach            as    if     that    was     the   plan      all    along      

Sunday, October 15, 2017

Thursday, October 12, 2017

Jimmy, run

He    stripped    and    strapped      his     semi-automatics            to   his  bare  black      chest           and    as if      that    wasn’t         beautiful        and     American        enough          some       homemade    dynamite.   Dinah  Washington’s   This Bitter Earth teetering  on the turntable      while    he     asked    who     could     be   like  Micah    but cousin,     who    couldn’t?      Fast  twitch   muscles    bulging     and     gleaming       as  he    marched     through   this   white    suburb     the   Nazi’s    are   coming     but I’m    here     to   protect     and    serve .      Later   in    the   interrogation    room      when   I   couldn’t     remember     who     took    the    first      shot     and      he    tapped     me     on    the     shoulder     grinning     and   sobbing    like   in There  Eyes are Watching  God  .     The   police  weren’t    gonna    kill    my    father        even    if   it      had     to     me              I    got     to   leave   with  Frank  Sinatra      and    all  these    magazines      and  clips       in  the    heat      of     withstanding      could make    me   be    glad     just   to   be    sad     thinking    of    you   

Monday, October 9, 2017

Sunday, October 8, 2017

Joyous Surrender

Rupestral design    in the stuff of sound     and the psyche      of the   universe   in   a    disk      on    her   fingertip     she         lounges      like    it’s        a     life     or    death     mission     to    sit    still      and      watch    the          kid    kiss      his      reflection         hunt       and    kill       his     ghost            she     sits    still    while    the   harbor  hipped     serpent       crosses        limping               I  haven’t   given  up     on     the    serpent        yet   

                    I  haven’t   left      my    pancreas      alone        I      have    yet    to    surrender     thought     to     feeling       when    it    comes       to     being    touched       traced          suctioned     with   the     venom    of        behavior       I  haven’t       tasted        the     poison     yet      and        spit   it   back         at     the   dreading   sun      I   am   someone     unafraid     standing    at     the   nape    a      of    flame      and   wagging    deeper        reaching    Montana       numb     and         acting     heaved       by     some    practical    hunger      pretending      to    crave      what     he     craves       a   stray    mime       of      desire        cause    I     wanna     see        what    I’m       watching        I     want     a   seat   with     my   seed   at    the    table       I    wanna  topple     the   table      and    everything       it    upholds       

                            Make     sense      of   this  boyhood    unraveling        the   desperately     stooped    stance        the     antler     rancid      stench        of      copacetic           black      boy          you       can    get      it        he     can     get   it      I         less        than      whisper        tease        turn         to       catch          his      yearning       eye         cry      blood      to Kyle   Abrahams              Does     the    slave      inherit       a        need    to   be   watched           was   I   past    that     and       making   slaves       like factory       with my seeing             Did     I      slay     my     daddy            before     the    officer    could     or       just     after                 we       lost      the      13th    way             of   looking          close      your      eyes     baby          Ma     gon     be     a     wild     one                     Ma        don’t      confide       in        the      god    of     surrender              but     tempted      by        the     cliff      and       emptied       by     temptation              My   black   chosen      one             My      black     chosen         one         
Image result for vintage black doll ads

Friday, October 6, 2017


Had    me    fooled          I   got  to     the  auction     and     left    talking     windows                a   little   less    broken   than    Angela Yee                Minty        had        sold      me       for   Sandra’s      leased      freedom        on         lease      with   no     option       to     buy.       See       my    name       on    the    bill        in       lead         in     Flint        in         innuendo                  the  soda   dimple      coming    up   even     when     he    frowns           folds        amounts        into            months      and     bloodhounds,       and      bloodhounds     

Thursday, October 5, 2017

Sandra, run

You know what’s more important     that  candy   painted   cadillacs?                   And       the    cactus   saddle  of        raspy       husbands                     that     piety         strummed     with   ride     and     dread                                       The       p  o      l    ea  se         please     don’t     call           no body      free       ‘til                  we   keep    visits      brief            strict        records                 of         dismissive        twirls               of    all     that     hair      in   a   world    of    ropes              a      garbage    bag     around   the  throat           because       she    goes          hard                          or   goes    home        

Then  it  was   time   for   love

                                                       Then  it was time   for   action      

Wednesday, October 4, 2017


Like the earth    is    rocking     a   baby    in    the  bosom of   a    cage     and     I’m    hugging  the    vagus   nerve     to    play     crowns           I’ll stay              with      the     frayed    reluctance         of      jade    eggs          perched    on the        bed      gripping      the       break             The   weight     of    another    man   on   top   of    me     crushing    the     ache     into    these     sweet   blooded   lemons       I     can    taste    on      the     edge    of     every     tremored   scream    a   sermon          I swallow        for      spoken     language           or    languish    in      not   so  silent    pleas        I    shall   be        released      Stanley   Turrentine   version      I  overheard      Minty  had    a  bill     of    sale   on      me    I   believed       I     was   really        traffic     that    moving   loss   swimming  in     black  lights           It     was    terrific  ly      sad         hips     gathered    at     the    risk    of   flight         of       floating        off     a     billboard         Ma a    f  a           so       missing            she’s    a  lounge    singer    on     the    strip        Her    sister’s      a     stripper      in     texas        Her    wrists     hint      at       yes     crosses        yes        Ma   a    fa      so    lost         and   pregnant     in    las   vegas            and       from      the       snowy  sheets    confesses        less    sacrifice     than      readiness       I   come to   these    dark   places     to    find    this    medicine      

Go forward to meet the rain

Tuesday, October 3, 2017

Bratty Niggas

There’s this  trend   toward   oblivion      and bourgeois   establishment    condescension   paraded around like  a  new fangled  remedy  for   blackness         as     if      to  have  made   it you  have to back sideways into   a  stupor    of  access  and hide from yourself  there          There’s   this    excessively   well  adjusted    affect       to  match          it  questions    nothing     predicts   immunity  to all sorts  of   catastrophes  of which  it is    a   symptom     hunts  for dashikis    to  wear   in the  club    titles   to  rub   the   eyes   with   like poison   ivy      IV  truck outside  after  the  party    Tick  Tock    rubber    meets    Hitchcock  road      leap   from   so   what     to    egypt  strut      amnesia  so  cluttered  it’s   near   remembering       it’s   near  slapping   some   sense    into  the   feigned  contentment   of   derailed    exponents    of   that   dreaded    and  deadening   anointment  men   call   fame      No    name    in  the street     ass niggas      it    lasts     as  long   as  paychecks   in   casinos     it    lasts     as   long    as    the   end  of   the world        You’ll  hear  the  fatalism   twirling    like   spades   in   the    last   lung  of    capital      breathless  with  act     and    cold    as Michael       an  air   of   battered   ego    veiled    by     sailboat   in   the    NASA   greenscreen  moonlight       I  love  you    in spite   of yourself  you’ll      say      as  they   trade   that    in  spite     and  sway   off  the  platform  just   in   time   for   the     train    to mangle   all  their   self-flagellating  elephants    These  suicidal  men   looking    for    respectable   ways   to   die           Looking   like   lies     when  they   shatter            Don’t   let   it   happen  here