A certain offense runs through us

You sho' is propaganda
You sho' is    propaganda

You show   his  propaganda      ( to  us?   to us!

You sho  is  , us too ,   is you?    prop  began do double as

actor      You sho'   is  that            propaganda  

You sho  is   grand  / ducks in a row   and allso scattered

show  is     sho    is      You sho   is papa   land up  in  the shadow  

and call me / us,  a spotlight    

Destroy the Nihilist Picnic /

and all supplication is forgotten in the frenzy of creation

The Production of Virtue in the Factory

You see those angles holding up the style    monument / tribe    holy    loud  holes  in the fire  they                                                                                                                                                                   hide                                                                                                                                                   or  deliver , I  

Don't you think they ever get a little tired, and want a walk at night ?

But he prays to jesus and his language improves

This violence is also peace

The woman wants to please her   man      half chanting civilize these  devils half broken  into  the panorama  of  black  hard  ons   we call  a club    or   in code   a stellar force in the universe   And that cry  or that  tear  represents  what ?  He asks, Stardust?  Fragments  of good greed grab at the mended omen.  I did not know it would be so easy, to be home again       Then he hears running  feet   and accompanies  them  on  his  drums / her  body    the neat  needle point   rhythms   of a  ritual  that almost  feels   like   talent    as  close  and   untenable    as   source    that  almost  feels   like  luck   that   almost   trusts    the    headlines   of   us   where our only equality  is when  we beat  each other  blue  too      like  whitey   do     and he seems   to   get free   on  it    so if we reappropriate  this  violence  against our bodies  like   good  easy liar  patriots    maybe      what's  left  is all    fine lace   in listless ecstatic   black  treason  love     or such a hep psychology   as   Sweetback and other equal evils swollen with  love   hope    But where is the honor in all this chaos ?