Wednesday, October 31, 2018

Monday, October 29, 2018

Sunday, October 28, 2018


What  strangled    me the   farce in    the nightsnake   or the narcissism     of all survival instincts              didn’t make it to morning

         What bleeds     bleeds ardently           or trips over suffocation      to g e t to lemon clenched as   many yellow entryway henchmen    huddle in their citrus grins

    And by   then divine     intervention is as    good a s the last    song and as long false    

You’ll     find yourself      humming middle notes    to the Boy if  you don’t   get Vine   compilation      winding your hips    possessed by the    rhythm of eight seconds    of hearsay It was     expiation

          such expensive    fun for eight   seconds one Sunday    they all danced in blackface     

Toward     the same   dazed revenge           I’d been trapped in eternal    with some oxytocin so long    I felt imperialism giving my    body an offer it couldn’t refuse      and I jumped too grabbed you by the   hand and the chasm it was Sunday                 they spent their lotto money on tarot and braids     we made drugs in the basement jumped our simulations   and fucked for free

Tuesday, October 23, 2018

Thursday, October 18, 2018

Promises of Blue Movies

The  corridor was  winged in a   skin of headlights     the r lingering eerie   I stood on the back   of his horse and had  no daddy lethal pattern     and overcoming the black that   dies of a broken heart to be the   girl who departs gleeful full hearted       coded in her own leverage not watching Sharp  Objects not carrying them after midnight through remembered    air spectrum is not a cable company someday and   I caught Ray Charles shaving in a brutal dark on Christmas and asked     him about his wrist clasping habit did it remind him of shackles pulses    pussy didn’t mean it when I said it aloud but I mean it now this  is love this is what love looks like to Maafa this is the soft blot of yellow   doctored out of public satisfaction this is exactly

How   she needs  to be loved          by a blind black man   shaving in total darkness    and also flying over a  streetlamp a lark dandy mandingo      heathen who can sing I mean really   sing

And keeps naming me after   my most delicate bones    can feel my name in my form        

Absolving   all that   killer guilt       

Rescinding   all that   hilltop hilltop   hilltop where the   air skims the skin  like razors and she can   feel him limping in the    damp of field or palming a    rancid sunrise as if there was no   machine touching no debut kissing its blood in a rubber Las Vegas

Sunday, October 14, 2018

Sunday, October 7, 2018

Maafa and the Moneychangers

Any   city might     fall of some   lumber keel wallow   wheel in a low low altar     made of now that the revolution   has—
    Castrated   its last    rape victim               I feel safe do you     feel safe? In any city I might      pick the night’s last trapdoor hour    to run half naked to a lover’s  house negro trench coat and lace now   that the saddle is drilled in revival              

                                                                                                                                   Meeting tomorrow I know I keep asking but is this tomorrow? That scratch off lotto gunk       in the conductor’s thumbnail makes him tin man christ hollow in the joke of bloodlines   as if anatomy is out of time rhythmless heartless if this is the last gimmick before    the end of law I’d give him the softest most final manicure in the trigger finger          a mannequin of an apple prying the mouth open to tell how even the inanimate objects have their insistent    violence feel idle and virgin without their gun or nagging wonder when I arrive at his door safe    and half naked he looks like he’s been fucking white women I grimace and back away defiant in a      daze of safety they reinvent satan give him a spraytan give him a woman to love and one to    damage make them the same woman now that the revolution has ruined indifference we’re all so candid and  empty it’s like there’s no more alphabet it’s like the whole s e t is mute the whole brutalized radiance I was so used  to