If it’s natural for some types of people to act that way,
then maybe de-naturing is what’s needed. If we’re going
to go down, let’s go down flaming. The two-party system
bats a shuttlecock of trivia, caked in fake, back and further
back; we are the net, immobile, invisible, watching the news
I do not like the person gathering behind these words
I do not believe his wound is what he says it is
I see nothing in his chipped little eyes that leads me to believe
released to his
own care after
promising to
take medicine,
a promise he
is sure to break
The water leaves
waves of arrogance, no longer
bubbling below the surface. Hate sunbaths happily
on bleached out yellow sand. Intolerance floats on the breeze
a tangle of slogans and lies. Hate,
injustice and greed on the savage vertical,
the noose of anxiety
hangs itself from a tree branch,
commits suicide,
dangling from a greater enmity
demanding tribute—
When I grow up I want to be a) happy: is something no one ever says, or b) unalone c) whole d) a hole e) anything but an a-hole, or f) hungry for the food of thought
Sometimes, I think there are talismans. If you can hit on the right configuration, you can open doors to other places. If you’re patient, you can pick the lock. I’m still trying out different combinations: a pocket watch and a pitcher of Wyler’s Electric Grape?
signs of the Black Death can still be
seen. Now a bittersweet place, that
neither technology nor the rapid con-
sumption of shooters can transform.
Getting & spending are lesser evils now
we have pandemic & pandemonium
caused by war and no real peace, even on Bali,
known for pacific waters and gorgeous daughters
in rebellion against the rule of tides,
i pulled the rifles
the switchblade
and gun from
the rabbit hole,
and laid them
across my bed
The idolatrous ink runs red once more
and we wash our hands of the whole affair
trying in vain to keep the fresh blood from dripping
on our Sunday best
while consoling ourselves because after all
Our founders didn’t want freedom
from religion as much as freedom
from that particular religion—
they worried about competing
sects getting too authoritarian,
To anticipate and prepare for an America without Roe,
my mother warns in a voice as assertive as the Pythia,
it’s necessary to remember America without Roe:
self-induced or back-alley abortions for those without
means or alternatives. Agonizing, often gruesome,
Ever nightmare through a night out, ever
lose some major coin, ever slot machine
past Mr. Right (or Mr. Whomever)
before cuddling up to Mr. Mean?
High risk, heeded by bed rest,
propping her feet, misshapen,
pale, easily marked, when pressed,
a plush pile to alleviate the swelling
Hades replied that rules are rules
Anyone who tastes our fruit
shall remain
consider six months above ground
a bargain
Lust drive
startle, flinch, fear
the bifurcating exits
split curbs and sky between
the silhouetted highway sequencing
Why do Black men have to be so angry?
I wondered how to not tell them that grinnin’,
dancin’, singin’ and callin’ on Jesus only go so far.
A real Black man’s hurt where they cannot see,
or how he learns to cleverly hides his scars.
an ash quarter horse buggy buggies
& a Ford Model A four-wheeler
wheels over orange dust
& a red-seat Kawasaki
& silver side-car weaves between lanes
i have swam with the mind's eels of mediterranean opuses
i have meditated on andean precipices on finities & infinities of being & seeing
hidden in plain sight these realms appear before me untouched by mind
uninhibited by mind unfractured by mind unspun by mind
“Kill the Indian, save the man,” they proclaimed.
Sent off on trains to faraway places,
hair shorn (was mother dead?), uniforms issued,
home languages silenced with slaps,
and Gloria resigned herself to her fate
the inevitability of her mother's caring fists
striking her head, her sides, designating
her calloused, open palms for her face
careful not to leave any black eyes
I had a feral streak and that day when the ice cream truck passed by I ran out of the house, straight into a big sedan driving down the street. I bounced off the side right by the front wheel.
they have forgotten the nightmare
that every crucifixion is a carnival
that goodness gets arrested
and that you can buy a flag
at a truck stop
a poisoned napkin come quick from the sea;
a six-shooter with fiery chambers full
to bursting in far and away the most
lethal hurricane season this century;
“Three strikes and you're out,” he says in whispers behind the scenes.
Out on the street, no job, no way home.
Permanent as a bronze statue, ripping young from their loving families;
A sickly angel, hiding among the crowds outside my favorite gay bar.
told them about the fires,
the screams, yelling, flesh,
how the flesh howls for dying even after it’s dead
the trunk decapitated and the howl still standing
in the air
A Ukrainian army combat medic who
was decorating her new apartment in Kyiv
with pink carpets and fluffy curtains,
now sleeps in the basement of
a building converted into the headquarters
for the Territorial Defense Forces,
After the missile hits the school the boys stream out laughing. They laugh for no reason. They laugh at the reasons.
Baudelaire and Freud liked to get into the Silver Sands Tavern around six, before all the tickets for Crazy Tuesday Chase the Ace were gone and they missed out on winning the meat-pack.
At root, everything composed remains mineral and chemical. Radical: cut the node at of its conclusions. The tendrils know dirt. Yes, I too have known fire. I have seen the helmets cutting the surf, bobbing in the foam and viscera.
Do not kill a mountain
scooping out its ribs to find
its lungs, organs and thread, ribbon
of bright. If you do,
you will unknot the growl
Roped in trios revolving,
only one bullet per waltz.
1 dead, 2 alive as they fell to freezing
waves. The Danube turned red then,
like the first plague against the Egyptians.
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