Monday, September 26, 2016

Sunday, September 25, 2016

A stream and a machete


Tricky lunging in an upright way   to hop the rocks    that bend the stream   that separate  the cane 

       from    reason      sunny  mansion/ so   many mansions       we need them all and   none 


caress the word ceremony  with your tongue   it's a whole phrase   really   don't you moan  none   in a 

     caress   becoming  the character    busy  lighting   fires     under   words    aggressively  passive  race  of   warriors  they've   been eating   our bones   as  Domino  Sugar     see how  dominos  are  black   and   white   scar  patterns   first they   eat   the flesh   and then the organs   then the bones   are shaven into  tiny white granules  and then you love donuts  and cake  and hip    hop   /  are hopeless     but   it's the end of the fossil  fuel era  , we can make  an elegant transition  as Coltrane plays  Easy to Remember seven times in a row   in  our defense  



Their diseases are miles  ahead of them     run                savor the ghetto    run    they start in the language    uncaressed   and broken  
   

Later  that century  an abandoned Smallpox factory just outside of Manhattan    is turned into a spectacle sponsored by a black   wanna be Gatsby   figure      who  has painted his eyes  blue, to be clear.  Fashion week , the fall line     has called for multiracial   models  only /  his eyes    ring   a demonic   bell   of  boast   and recoil      in the 100 degree heat  and as the women   walk    the narrow stage/ road in stilt stilettos  one by one their ankles  buckle and snap    and they   collapse          back  onto that stream      between the cane   and the    domino   having never made it all the way across without a pang  of guilt   or   fear    or   we   miss our oppressors  as excuses    to be here    

                                              the angels   have  gone silent    

                                                          in the middle of instructions   about   how and when   to fall   

Saturday, September 24, 2016

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

A story about the body

Watch the lash  lasso   around the slave's back         as      your father wraps an arm around your 

mother's             rib  then    Look at pulp fiction   sleeping christians do not have buddhist                             dreams    

his mask   /  the bearded 
                                    man     who   should be my    defender   is  fleeing down a ladder? 



Samuel L.  Jackson    was once the highest  paid actor   in Hollywood       owning  nothing , not even    his own stage/ name      or that    charitable disobedience       fame tamed him into     New free words    like   he was  eating Othello    new   low    like   wondering how  that  tastes   in  a cradle  of snow     each fuzzy dent    aerobic     with   senseless light    it gets   ridiculous   to  love  in hiding     does  the body   understand  opinions     it   gets    so  fun     waving  them away   in the parade     


Sake sake sake   sake  black maid descending a staircase in uniform  to the rhythm of furious nearly violent clapping          Clay   and a lady     strapped to the peaches  like  apologies  

Friday, September 16, 2016

Monday, September 5, 2016

The dance of the masked man

Luring the enemy into strange territories,  the forrest, the pasture, the swamp, the mind   skirt made of hay   skin  opaque velvet   vestigial nipples exposed like bullet holes in a pool of benevolent chicken grease     you sicken   me     I   love you       because you're a fool and don't know how to love yourself

Holy Riddle : 

A benevolent white supremacist enters the hooded jungle with a gun and a bible and comes out with a negro and diamond studded poker face  and I can't name one brave associate   friend   or  enemy, not one  but I'm writing a       beautiful   lyric   about the    way     Bud Powell tiptoes across the Seine looking  for   notes     and  renderless noise       and sinks into the window of his   reflection    mumbling I'm famous?  Ain't that a bitch 

Sunday, September 4, 2016