tattooed
neck, hands glove ink, a burger, fries, a down ass mistress. into fierce
lovemaking, aggressive, one fears his life. a soul died, we city into a
miracle, an afflatus, better, an epiphany, lost gods, gained clarity—damn the
totem pole! away, like miles from home, sophisticated women kissing, a long
ride, a yacht afire, sharks escape, whales circle around. sad music, listening
closely, how many fathom Illuminati? —the grounds the basements those
friendships with people on the insides; to deserve freedom, to earn freedom,
like blacks haven’t desired freedom. it’s 9:09 a.m., mother was here, she died
years into the understanding—a ghost with problems, fiending for women, never
lusting—it gets worse, an Inner City, I just talked to Marvin Gaye. many
are critical, they have concrete ears, abstracts are beneath them. one move
more, one corner more, always in our language. I smile gently, I ride glory
songs, I heard his soul—purchased his album. it was sick. we chanced to repeat
our mistakes. we laughed, but never spoke clearly. over cashews, palms over our
mouths, Anna seemed both terrific and trustworthy. I spoke it, I meant it, “Don’t
slip!” days are crucial the master is out those claims were false.
tattooed chest, ink dripping, too eclectic
to claim love eternal.
bullet proof. flipping cars. we might try
to be careful.
I always speak senses, I always claim
mother, I always knew it must end.
tears
for the dead. we adore the living. getting answers from the dead. the rumor
goes as follows: “Look to us, never them,” I got ghosted.
angry about it. seemed shady to me. I felt
loco.
Love is attractive. I’ll share a secret.
Never! degrade your experience.
too preachy too clean too filthy. a condo
life a wife life eating my own hands. where property is riches, wisdom is expected,
while excellence is giant.
