Maafa’s Industrial Attraction

Hawks  on trucks  on crop on   klux he left the x out he wanted it   luck      the   uncultivated  land gives  me a rush    of communion            and freedom is for the   wild ones who can still    see a hanged man in every    fancy silk tie and adobe pile         The scavengers in there groping their own necks    to brace the rash of assimilation checking for  chains and magenta teeth I want to say here nothing    other than they are very corny and the bird dung   on their windows called eyes came to clean in swarms  torment them with a ritual joke when they wanted luxury socialism and then    there are no  more naked men    in the boat Dada       there are no more men in boats          there are no sun bottles filled with ice    and cod what is desire after luxury will he   get hungry will she feed him the tufts of milk    he remembers like bites and loaves nobody knows nobody   knows