Sunday, June 30, 2019

How to Style Scars

These shrines are telecommunication devices      their displaced patience becomes oppression     a totem’s pressure on the spine no sun spin     blind and lucid is a brisk skin of a    laugh or wince the light in half toward the black     thought or some pathogenic gimmick and its     phlegm of cranes something dainty went up a ladder   made of the body’s excess its surplus its majestic overproduction         and the bevel was thin and pale and forever a lesson to   rub   

               She   squinted      to signify     one of the   jive healers was    learning sincerity see   jesus seasick jesus she    widened to intensify the significance    of no one in particular the        branding iron and some candles a net     sac of swollen peaches as it punches the pole      that sweet illicit juice of flesh slides down the      isle linoleum orange lunge is this what you call a wedding         we met in the metro no retrograde no blood gave off    the aroma of transmutation like the unspilled blood of in a    puddle of shrines I was always wearing velvet behind some elephant     man with a television show and no mansion I was a good girl wishing     on stars while my hard r sizzled    

And   it occurs     to me these    ruins are the     blighted heave of   an endless trance   and we might even       like them that one dance     lifting the invisible weight in segments    of giggle makes it seem like we like   a world almost over like if there’s something    we’re late for we’ll feel just distorted enough   to make a move        

              And    that was    the new grammar            mumbled garden of nerve    and charge and here’s what       we’re not finna do and    are you a martyr or a lot   of dizzy renditions of what if or       whatever the killings are pathetic tributes     to the power of black life you say I can’t   hear you say it!           

               He    was busy    kicking the    ribs of a   child and her       skill was less death      

She   was busy      reviving the   shrine and it     looked better   than free shipping over   fifty dollars paradise      

Whistler   at white girl          this is your likelihood    coffin paradise  

Go   off,   queen   paradise    

Wait       softer   paradise                          

Are   there   maps to    get us back     to ship     I think it’s   a pitiful riddle     on the railroad   I think the lyric       being over at last is     so shirll about its presence as     disaster to get some attention     we have this wicked laughing disaster    with no name now we named her     Ma a fa not worried nods don’t   blame me 

And   obedience             is no longer cunning         these shrines are coming back    to life to tell you what     lie you’re sick with   that victory also oppressive   also let me out of this boat          

Nina   goes on     trembling            

          LeRoi’s    bright red     eye at the   oral history recording           

Miles’   dick shriveled     in the pool 

       Get   off my    dick       

My   mamma   loves Dick  Gregory   

But    Cavett had    every guest        

But  Gregor  Samsa   fasted for   two years to   protest the Vietnam     War maybe            

        He    drank   only water             He bought Yoko Ono     her first black event       in attention   

The   drug   addicts     are   in a pile    on isle one   

And  I saw   Michael Jackson    come in the backdoor    screaming did you   see him?

Thursday, June 27, 2019

Run on

Child  Born On a Wednesday   who  knows  why we   keep the  names of the men   who beat us   my mama said dust and  taxes I rubbed   some syllables into good   drugs club went up     club went up in flames   damsel came Denzel came Malcolm’s      pain came off like a veil after they       shot him he’s on the gurney smiling he’s gone    on renaming pride shame like a master asterisk     drifting between his first and seventh eyes I wanna   keep his name some bride bribed plain— Maafa X I wanna     fix the hex on pain kept in living vessels and called     soul on that exactly deranged lie it got loose in his skin then and revolution      hence I wanna nah nod into a noose to do this / to undo this      

Monday, June 17, 2019

Phosphorescence yet

Sharing became my coherence    water music water music   Basinski Eisenstein Van Peebles had  I sold myself to fall in love?

Thinking  (of) who   put her head   in the oven  

Thinking, you are an intense piece of light

I just might   

Goodbye, for now

Angels bow at the sky       

Tuesday, June 11, 2019