Friday, June 5, 2015
Wednesday, June 3, 2015
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
Hypervisibility
In the parallel I held a laughing perm and swarmed the classic skin bleaching ads for Ethel Ennis and all the girls who somehow misunderstood the promise were chanting no more death no more heartache no more misunderstanding and my tan was a fancy palindrome for their seedless rebellion and once in a while hybrid eucalyptus grows like dandies and I'm still obsessed with dandyism in black men and in the revelation that the dream was teaching the dreamers how to live which was teaching them how to die and apocalyptic second coming and I am unphased which was why they stay buying into every play siege as a wideness/ thick tedious lips / to abide then/ generous dream to teach its endless germ in the clean way and safety is clear thinking and radiance redeems pretense now and then and I'm again making a tabloid monument to us and them and us/again The spectator must be allowed some distance because the difference between innocence and devotion is a sudden one, sullen one, sublime hunter see how we run some light Photo of Cornel West lunging into a crowd of uniforms all my unadorned objectives could I get abstract enough to rescue desire from fear could I get that and is seduction at last militant
Sunday, May 31, 2015
Monday, May 25, 2015
Campenella's Utopia
Oh cherub
Oh rubber parody of the bare ease of spring
body afraid of mending as rival militias mend / Dissolving our western selves in the interest of survival
A new book is out, about the luxury of foraging, the luxuriously hip wilderness, did you liken the risk of too casual an existence to Odom's Cave, the way black women saunter into danger like preordained saviors, like the club was the underground railroad and maybe... afraid all our ideas behave like rhymes, too final, chicken grease in a dim in Adam — Oh barely entered summer we plan to scorch with mumbled confessions— that was me bent on producing another kind of man through the mobilization of rituals that had no value yet
That better have been me
Oh rubber parody of the bare ease of spring
body afraid of mending as rival militias mend / Dissolving our western selves in the interest of survival
A new book is out, about the luxury of foraging, the luxuriously hip wilderness, did you liken the risk of too casual an existence to Odom's Cave, the way black women saunter into danger like preordained saviors, like the club was the underground railroad and maybe... afraid all our ideas behave like rhymes, too final, chicken grease in a dim in Adam — Oh barely entered summer we plan to scorch with mumbled confessions— that was me bent on producing another kind of man through the mobilization of rituals that had no value yet
That better have been me
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