He wrote Black English I read it as Black anguish plain as gangs and
He’d written Black English but I saw Black anguish on the page plain as strangling an enemy in a dream
It says Black English it says Black anguish
The confusion plain as gangs mugging the interior the intruder the wish the angst the hot rain in the hottest summer on earth the lava of leaving a language for its feeling by the time it registers be laughing so we write black laughter and the word slaughter has no refuge we do this in a hurry the money is made of cotton the apples are made of johnny the anguish is gushing lawns and soft overripe lemons and you might drown thinking of that yellow brightness you might see the calm of hell on earth and pull up a lounge chair you might own some tall whispering trees you might be angry but not angry enough to return them to what you call the wild He wrote wild I saw a child learn her first lie Such horrific calm we want to caress the mistress in ourselves we want her in black and yellow we want to kiss her shy anguish as it shifts to desire
