Sunday, September 30, 2018

Cardinal Beauty

Affable        father

Windswept     father

Halogen   father

I killed  him father    

How’s  that feather  on the wind    

Monoton   ous feather      feather father

The time of matriarchy followed trickled  down like the last blow   from a black nose father   

What   about    home though       what about all my     hoes Big Stuff and O       father

What     about the   fable have        you ever killed  your father

Meadows:  Father          

Say   so

Fa    so la   te deaux    

Denial     father

Is  so  rebel    after    say  I     feel  seen      dangled        dreamed father    
Astor   place

Stroller   tracks in   the dirt

Mason     Dixon was    he a mason

Save  me a line   

Say  her name         33 times

Where did   they take   the baby they’d been  pushing up the hill

Where   is she    

Is   she a   spy

Or me 

Is   he





Bye  bye    father   

Higher  ground    forever 

The time of matriarchy  followed  

Wednesday, September 26, 2018

The Optics

This former giant  in his crime orange      




He  could   be my   dad

He  was  my dad    too    who also died in  jail after almost destroying

His  misery     He really  got to leave    like leaving do         baby on the way

Muse      shaking  in the maze        I’ll meet   you in the  maze playing  lazy promises  

Will there  be a laugh   track and my favorite  strands of bus stop weave   waiting

To  declare    his mistakes    a suicide or do    we have to name that too  

Monday, September 24, 2018

Thursday, September 20, 2018

Maafa's not distraught

My negroes,  I say they are mine because my father gave them to me     the story  begins    

Are you still waiting around for the happy ending?

Wednesday, September 19, 2018

Tuesday, September 18, 2018

Monday, September 17, 2018

Vivika, Run

Suffocating     supplicating    once I hung  a layer cake from the   ceiling like it was the   queen’s chandelier and I’m the     queen and I tested anapest   with a bat hinged at my shoulder  jabbed the new sugar loose so a mess   of white would splatter on my face jupiter jupiter   the matrix has you cake on the floor no more
 all  temptation     escalates for   the fall I  may not be safe     in my rage I may not    save you a plate later I  covered my face in that battered   frost pressed it against the window   

She  knows    church   she knows    all about it              I   heard  the neighbors    yelping at a ring      one man was on his back  in satin shorts arranging  their feelings have you seen  the fashion we wear polaroids     on our stomachs now the ones      taken from the slopes of roller coasters   because you’ll need to identify one another screaming       with nothing coming out of your mouths but cake and     a loud red maiden pressed against the window is that   snow is that motive is she where we meet under lemons   to watch those glaciers disappear into the sea and be glad      and be ruthless with me

Thursday, September 13, 2018

Earth Rot

As  if  it’s  habitual  ^ that   terrible she    folds the camels  into jesuit adults     and all the hoes are barren     andthen Maafa buys a    fast Mazda she forgot there’s   no more crude oil to guzzle so she   stands on top of that bloody lobster playing   the flute a lot of bamboo a jot of   Bambi surrendering to her inventor’s reputation     heal yourself from all knowing heal yourself from all knowing     heal yourself from all knowing

Sunday, September 9, 2018

This is the clearing he once spoke of

It’s wartime   there’s no gasoline       everybody’s on bicycles              and he walks out into this garden   this is toward the end and he  feels like Adam on the first day       And he’s waiting inside of her to  take shape shoes under water a   dozen representations of harps in stones If you feel  like you’re going crazy or dying or your ego is dissolving   go with it don’t fight it if you fight it you’ll make   it worse this is what spin is when all the gospels surrender

Thursday, September 6, 2018

For Maafa for whom grieving isn’t a fantasy everything is

Where e is  called   the spherical   excess a    pall of media is     always not even enough    to say something justice  like    they  love pickled   cabbage on a bagel  or     something    taller THEY  LOVE THAT GOD IS BLACK              we love playing west coast shit   in the backs of school buses on the way to Magic Mountain   one white kid named Jared is with it too one laughter    is too many chickens in Dave’s last day on set too many       dead birds on set too many onslaughts of secular mercy too many Marcy Projects    reciting but not Jay Z types I’ll fight a clone but then what? There’s genetics   in every tension a fantasy in every release revenge is just panic panic just     that this isn’t mount Fuji yet
make the next mountain a sinner with no rails  

I   suspect  we’re being     quarantined and    beamed up on double   crosses I suspect we  love Jesus and don’t    even claim him or have the   sense to clone him suspicion   makes me laugh and dip the   thigh in batter

Where the growl  of oil in mouths    captivates empowers
the earth  spills    some more  into a quarry   

Quarantine     Josephine     Persephone whatever the mania of clarity can occupy without killing

Wednesday, September 5, 2018

Seven Figures

A haggle  of camels     and no red  lake no 1 to clean   the undulations or braid the still  water in their freight of skulls       

This Reddit forum on  vivid dreams is turning into blackness lessons   live coaching  bitch that’s what money do   

Thought the drone was a hawk   again now we’re talking about   clones and fancy lemons a sophisticated  brand of stretch pants saved my life     Night and Day weaponized the sun

Ficus       Ficus Ficus  Ficus if it  itches if it fights       if it eats at Sizzler Happily   ever?

Hard candy   in a bush like   a poisonous mushroom   or permission to run   but she sits still in silhouette  and smiles and the children inherit    the bomb shelter the butterscotch Bell Hook’s  car collection there’s a lot of them

                      See an ancient baby bird beautifully encased  in Amber I don’t see her I see   a man’s inertia

Nature is anti-capitalist  propaganda a burden  of knowledge actually     jade tree jade tree ace of spades     in a jungle of loosies and you  berrating a dome of lungs in these longest   broken tongues

Sunday, September 2, 2018

Saturday, September 1, 2018

Maafa’s Industrial Attraction

Hawks  on trucks  on crop on   klux he left the x out he wanted it   luck      the   uncultivated  land gives  me a rush    of communion            and freedom is for the   wild ones who can still    see a hanged man in every    fancy silk tie and adobe pile         The scavengers in there groping their own necks    to brace the rash of assimilation checking for  chains and magenta teeth I want to say here nothing    other than they are very corny and the bird dung   on their windows called eyes came to clean in swarms  torment them with a ritual joke when they wanted luxury socialism and then    there are no  more naked men    in the boat Dada       there are no more men in boats          there are no sun bottles filled with ice    and cod what is desire after luxury will he   get hungry will she feed him the tufts of milk    he remembers like bites and loaves nobody knows nobody   knows