"A heart
that writes. There is nothing to lose"
With Waves
Eros would never leave
Poetry would never leave
Neither would serenity
and wildness-
The grass is conclusively grinning.
Architecture
In emptiness
or wounds/tales/outrage
a touch of depravity
A jar filled with memory
slowrollingit through a cliff
while belligerence takes your mind
As if birth is not a death sentence
each dawn harvests shrapnel
what the violin did not tell the flute
as if yesterday's massacres weren't enough
were we not targets on sidewalks
sadder than all the winds found in translation
what a sapling said to a hater
don't aim your void at me
Penchant
as you teach i grow
into the part i strum
your clitoris
aria & patio i split
a mask apart i
split a myth apart
you go on pulling down
your stockings
a wineglass appears in your hand
there are worse things
than having a leg fetish
On an envelope
Writing on a blackboard
there's a bookbag i've got
to retrieve.
If you sucker yourself
into becoming a nostalgia act
If you sucker yourself
into becoming a novelty act
don't blame me.
Damn the middle class mentality!
My guilt is the penalty for not
being a mediocre. Where to begin
is with a league of one.
So effing sorry
for blustery fuckery.
From a document
He doesn't just stop
at the animality of humanity.
Every disappearance
leads to another appearance.
Were you there when
Negritude became a tourist
attraction? Awfully so?
Call it dismay. How good it
is to rage again. Leave
the sandbox. Stay on the lam.
Passing down the crown. A heart
that writes. There is nothing to lose
if you wait for the tide to answer your questions.
At the height of it
60 thousand souls took
to the streets in Paris
for your liberty in 1971.
Either way you kept your options open.
Move it. Now.
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