Monday, February 26, 2018

Tuesday, February 20, 2018

Sunday, February 18, 2018

The blackbird singing or just after

Then I noticed  on  the anniversary   of   your   death    this   cheerfulness    how  proud   I   am   of    a   voyager    a     seer       I   overheard   the    guy    with   ash  between  his    eyebrows      and    Prince’s  former   assistant   who  now  works    at   my  local  crystal    dealer      liberate   emporium       I    go   in     for    cinnamon   incense   and   to   test   my    intuition      and     drink   this   grapefruit/cayenne  juice   in   the   comfort    of     a    telegraph    they    were   discussing    what  happens   when   a  bullet   enters   the   flesh      how   it’s    not    the   impact   that hurts   but   the   gunpowder   searing    your  inner   organs    burning   them    on    contact     the   flame    once  lit     leveraged     as    potential   like    all    trauma       the    sentient   ram     is    mostly    calm   as    a   smirk   in  the   aftermath     slower than    everything   happening    clearer    deserted    river   banks      becoming    mirrors      the  finger     you      shot     off       has    never     been    didactic       never    wagged       never    asked    for    the   nerve    back        had     the   nerve    to     know  better      to       grow    a   palate    there      a     dialect      new   flesh     I’m so     proud     of      you     mom told  me the news  the   day     after valentine’s    day   in     grandma   and    grandpa’s    hallway    in   stucco    san   diego      everything    so    clean    and    so  quiet    you  could    hear    the    clock’s  constant     ticking     and   crickets    and   the      grasshopper    that      landed     on    my    shoulder      and    smiled           she    told   me     about      a   new   place     you     had   travelled     to       and     then     collapsed        sobbing        I’m        so     proud     of     you     you’re      so      jubilant      and     dignified   on      the     other   side     with    Ruth      and    Elijah      and    some   brides       and    your       love       higher       and   higher      the    cut     of      the   last     scream     is    laughter      it    was   like     we      were    in    two    different      places     hearing      two   different        stories    while      she     wept          I    gathered     the openest   hiss  in   my     eyes      the    deliberate  calm    of  retreat       the    ecstacy       of      nevermind          I’m     so     proud      of       you       so     proud     to   be    of     you     so     happy      for     you        so     through      with     sadness      so       new      and     ruthless       and     you   and    Ruth      and      Elijah       and    all    the       distant    cousins   and    all    the     bloody    gloves      and   all  the   loose   myths     about      all      of      us       and     the    way  you  sing    save   me     like   Nina   Simone    does    and    really      mean     it      and      really     prove     what   it   means       to      build    a    bridge        to    walk     the    muted     water      I’m     so     proud        of     the     proof     of      you       the     bruises       healed          the   comfort     came        all   of    our     effort     turned    into      ease       the     wounds     went    away      or    went   blind    or      ran     off    on   other   cinder        but        the    songs         are      still     here         it     was     ash   Wednesday    in      the     year    of     our    lord    anno domini     something   or    other      Prince   died    on   my    birthday     Nina   Simone    too       I     love  tribes       I   like      that  late April      makes     people    feel    safe   to take     off   to   slay      the      stiff   lion      that   looms    in     the    yard      with     the   lemons    and  Ma  a  fa  just   learning     her     name      and    the   deacon     and     the    lot      we   bought     in   Atlanta     and     tips    of     tongues  skipping    like      pamphlets      we  don’t   need   communism         anymore     we   don’t     need   to   sound     smart     about    dumb    shit     we   don’t     need   to     do       crunches     in    a   cell   I’m      so       proud             of       you       I’m    so    full     of    truth    and      hours       thank  you     for   going    over   there      for   being    here      and      there       for    the      new    grass      for      the      magnetic     tape      and     the   way   stitches  disappear     into      skin    like    the     quick    indigo grin    of    morning          you   make   me    proud   as   all     disappearing     you   set     me     free   as   an  intention           you    ask  me  to   sing     about    it     too    now      or     teach    me      or      through      me       so     proud     I’m       so       proud        

Wednesday, February 14, 2018

Saturday, February 10, 2018

Thursday, February 8, 2018

Just this Once

It was  around this  time that she  was   seen    traveling with books of negro  spirituals         reporters    invade the   sacred   with     the   desperation   of   conspiracy     everyday      she   chanted    wake   the   children   sleeping  and  wished    for  his  disappearance     everyday   he    returned.      Dorothy   Day     or    Bresha    Meadows     the    blows      the   puzzled   winds   of     the    chosen         keep     a    record      for   them.     When   the  time  arrives  like   a message    watch  out    for  them.    If  you’re   brave   enough   to  sleep  beside    the   woman  you’ve   beaten      watch   out    for   them.     And    so    the   child   of     14     entered   the   quiet    legacy      and    shot   her     father   in    the   head    while    he  gently  slept.    And   so   the   nest    is   no    longer    a cage  but   maybe    a    graveyard.   And    maybe   it’s    fun    to    watch   a monster    die    and    see your     father   again   with    his    new   eyes,  how   she   healed  him   crying       it’s   so   nice     to    watch   you    die.    America,   this   is your     dream    come    true.     This   is   your       perfect   Meadow      this   is     your    first   black     president    Bess    is    your     woman     now           confessing    and         everything     real    never    fraudulent         and      as    for    selling      expectations        And    as     for      shameless   silhouettes      and     blood     wet    whispers  in the  new  sirens     and    as   for  her     protected     future         and      her     Reparations      and    her    Ruins     

Heroine and Carrot Juice

Tuesday, February 6, 2018

Friday, February 2, 2018

How deep is the ocean?

Atlantis  is  growing in   and   there’s   no  moan in  swim       could she  live of a life of  cooking   french   toast  for   him  and   survive   it                                            thought    so              quickly   hop  on  the  shuttle            Tuscany   I  hope          nothing    slackens     when    the   shin    acts    for   going     I  just   so   happened   I   just  so   happened     I  just   so   happened       I   just   so  happened         to   know someone      on    the   bottom    who   come  from   the    spun   out   top      forgot    how   to    float    for   three    years      forgot     about     detachment     forgot      about   being  a basket  case    and    nothing   disappeared  but    the   radioactive   jellyfish   trapped   in    lace    ellipses,    the  ridiculous hoax   of   the   rescue   attempt        such   cruel techniques   of   measurement      when    a      vast   metropolis  in    you   steps   out   of   the   blue   horizon     and   without   knowing    why   come    is    coming     toward   the canon  playing    a  weird   golden  accordion      and  laughing          There’s  no  need  for   revenge   in   the  future   nor for   our   negro   Helen  to  bait repentance        a   tapering   concentric     gathers into  the   bull’s   battleye   and  if   instead   of   charging    she   turns    around     the  whole   game   cowers     the     whole   lantern  billows   broken   hearted    cowboys        how   ‘bout  it    traitor        ‘how   bout   it    slave?  

Thursday, February 1, 2018