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