"[I Poet, Therefore I Am]..." "Anger is fluid like water is fluid like fire is fluid like Rage," and "[Of Icarus Sewn Into Air]..."

[I Poet , Therefore I Am] [As If Emily Dickinson
Looked God in The Eye and Told Him to Go Fuck Himself]
 
                                         A femme grenade is an explosion waiting to happen.
 
 
I was eventually awakened to realize that poetry , like Black folk
, is the conscience of the Nation . Are words that have to bruise
  our modified convictions before we get mad , before we are
 
  changed for the better . In the 80s and 90s I temporarily went off
  the rails , a sabbatical to a seductive euphoria . My albatross
  deadweight of anger , trainwreck shame and regret , exploded a bridge
 
  that crashed into the bottomless depression of my drug-stupored flight
  to avoid compliance . Most great poets , in trying to find the seams
  in the sociopathic bunny suit , have actually been somewhere
 
, experienced something to write home about . Even Emily
vacationed in exotic locales of introspection . Her work revealed her
obsessions , whether she was conscious of them or not
 
. The inner roar that is the other side of silence and grace—the
  glass shard knife of eccentricity and the bioluminescent full moon
  gravity of solitary contemplation . Revelation was
 
  a wild card hidden up my sleeve , traversing the no-man’s-land of do’s
  and don’ts . I learned I would have to fall down , before I fought back
. Every Black poet’s work illuminates , imbues
 
  a wolf-howled dissent and vindictiveness the color of +’justments
. Poetry , like wonder , until the world is deaf with the miraculous—
  how big the eyes become in awe . Only wild horses could run faster .

Anger is fluid like water is fluid like fire is fluid like Rage
 
 
Why does the brain live for 10 minutes after the heart dies
, a cerulean cloudlessness, so blue , it’s mistaken for ascension 
 
 
? The average adult human brain weighs about 3 pounds
, is a synaptic electrochemical perspective , amazed
 
 
  as we encounter the wonder and awe of the Afterlife . A soul
  weighs in at a whopping ephemeral ascension of 21.3 grams
 
 
. A gallon of water weighs 8.3 pounds ; 55% to 60%
  of the adult human body is water . Which is actually
 
 
  more than enough to drown in
 
 
. Men, because of muscle mass , a Schwarzenegger flex
  of patriarchy , are more apt to drown than women 
 
                                                      , which, like karma  
                                                      , can mean drowning in +’justment
, or a startled Lazurus resurrection
  surrounded by crime scene tape
                                                      under a land/locked , powder/blue
                                                      , half/domed swelter of summer sky 
 
 
 
                                    ****************
 
 
 
. The fluid intractability of rage
  like an unextinguishable zombie fire
, like crashing river rapids obstinately cutting contours 
 
 
. A ghost radio haunted by Tina Weymouth’s lightening in a bottle 
  opening quarter notes to Psycho Killer
 
 
                . The national mythology , an iceberg a/massed , is exclusionary
                  and full of lies . Joseph Laroche is the sole Black man
                  who died on the Titanic . His last act , to save his wife and children
 
 
. The fluidity of John Henry driving railroad spikes
, like one voice and a singular-sounding road-worn Gibson
  howling an electrified cottonfield holla’ 
 
 
                          . Post-racial as an alice-blue cloudless day
                          , is such a prejudicial hue  
                            that is habitually mistaken for colorblind
 
 
. You brought me here ; now you tryin’
  to run me away . A Black Identity Extremist (B.I.E.)
  like an I.E.D. like a WMD , like the morning sky
 
 
                         darkened to an ominous gray , and Katrina
                         makes landfall . Seemingly a trauma
                         we can never wake from
                       ; which is actually more than enough to drown in  
 
 
                         . Anger is the umbrage 
                           sparked to a smoldering of tried our las’ nerve
                         !! Is the fluid hunger of why ? the zombie won’t die 
 
 
. The clockwork fluidity of graphic ghetto anecdotes 
. Gangsta rap’s bass-boom bravado
  is chaos with bullets holding midnight hostage
 
 
. The pandemic , and the police 
  are both a canary’s warning omen of asphyxiation 
  that lynched the signature breath control of Black folk out of our lives
 
 
                . Water flows the path of least resistance
                . A gallon of the Tallahatchie River weighs 8.3 pounds
                , historically more than enough to temporarily conceal a body 

[Of Icarus Sewn Into Air] Is Meta/phor The Atom Broken Free Of Its Electrons . His Father’s Thread Sewn Into His Veins [And Wings Laced To His Spine] . The Mechanical Anthropomorphic Motions That Hurtle Him Into Oblivion  
 
. No one won the war that they euphemized as Enduring Freedom—for God and family and my Nation—justified by the hate spread from ground zero’s toppled temples to widespread national greed . None of the invaders ever truly returned home , and most of those conquered no longer had a home , the dispossessed fled to foreign shores [a space/for within a foreign context] aliens in a place not their own—the invaders forever haunted by the screams and stench of death
 
and their plunder and pillage
 
of a place not their own . The tragic thing about war is that it never stays where you put it . The continued exterminations via the overcorrecting mandate of white Christendom , and stateside , the mass media along for the ride . We the People . . . in a Nation that fostered individuality , and free trade zones and outsourced slave labor and Global-I-zation , is an oxymoron . Is a collective mass delusion trying to kill its way to tomorrow , on repeat . A democratic landscape of purity—the bigoted breadth of the outside gaze
 
. . . this just in . We have breaking news
 
. . . Amerikkka has built a system of status where standing together is impossible . The dominant caste of every confrontation , an ectopic thru/space between the right to stand and what is really police brutality , might finally be retaliation’s ascent , or the backlash of shame . Every ass/umption is the brute calculus de-nigger-ating Black indigenous people of Color [the dispossessed] sans the etymology of history . The racist them 
 
, sunk to a lower , and corrupt and vicious State . The systemic racism . Is a virus . Is
 
who and what is infecting our lives and the Nation as we know it . Anyone/ or thing could become a weapon if encountered at sufficient velocity . All that we gain , achieve , surmount , as we accept our losses almost as if we had a choice , is the weight of the damned . It’s strange how we look to God as if He were salvation , but know intuitively , is only oblivion . All of our senses alive to the danger that lurks in the crevices of
 
the city’s sounds , and our eyes whiskey/dark as our rage/full of rusting umbrage 
 
. And in the end , when we confront the Mystery , will there be empirical evidence to prove that our faith is fact ? is justified ? or just more something we cannot trust ? God might be a racist , might exists only because our desperation created Him , despite He does nothing about the whole rot of rancid white supremacy . We believe because everyone else said it was salvation , that God is always on our side , based on what
 
, exactly ? for centuries , He has never done . All our history , dependent 
upon a God who moves in mysterious ways
                                                                       , but has never saved a one of us .