Excuse Me, Are You Finished With That Hegemony?

DSC_0057 (2)

Hey man,

Respect the dynamic.

Our empire can’t be erected

On the backs of other’s babies.

 

Again. Can it?

Oh, and speaking of erections

Ladies, maybe if you let us touch your bodies

Every once or twice or three times

 

We’d let you have a say

About your plumbing or that place

Down there wherever the stork

Deposits the twinkle in God’s eye.

 

Alls I’m saying is it’s tough being white.

Hard to be WHITE. The WHITER THE HARDER.

It’s almost, almost like trying

To not there at all.

 

Earthbound

img_20170219_190440_6692.jpg.jpg

A slack of stones

Metastasizes like boulders

Beneath your shoulder

 

Blades where angel’s

Wings sprout one silly

Cilia at a time.

 

Time. Can I borrow some?

I need a ride, too,

Don’t worry, just out to the

 

Quarry. How much junk

You got in your trunk?

It’s just that, lately,

 

I’ve been fearing

I’ll be gone till

Only the mountain remains.

 

Gravity’s a bitch

For aspiring seraphim

And cherubim alike

 

Though what passes for

Difference these days

Can’t be pried apart

 

By a feather

No matter how small

Or how silly.

 

So

You got that ride

Or what?

 

 

Winter Commute

 

wp-1487599765320.jpg

 

The engine turns over

But the belts whine

When its cold and wet.

Winter’s not over yet

 

Especially in the morning

But its only dew

On the windshield

Rather than frost.

 

The engine turns over

But the heat blows cold

And sometimes you don’t have patience

For this car, this job, this life.

 

The engine turns over.

But one day it won’t.

Tap tap tap. Click click click.

Or nothing at all.

 

Living on the Bus-Line

20170214_091837.jpg

I went down to the crossroads

To catch a cross-town bus.

There was swinging with great violence

In a benevolent cacophony.

 

But the empty pleading eyes

And the emptier pleading hands

Only seemed to say sadly

You have to sit through the whole presentation

 

In order to get a round-trip ticket.

But there’s coffee and doughnuts.

Except the coffee’s bad

And the doughnuts were gone by 9.

 

Wetting the tip of my pencil to gauge the wind

I remembered an ember can travel miles

Before being extinguished so I asked my neighbor,

Hey buddy, you got a cigarette?

Communicable Discourses

20170212_184645.jpg

Where do you even begin

With half this shit  –

The precipice or the bucket?

We speak in clichés

 

As they’re easier to understand

Like the TV hanging on the wall.

(I crawled out that window once

And never came back)

 

Do you remember

When we weren’t so obscure

Back then? Our mothers laid

Our clothes out for us each morning

 

And we only knew the names of

The things we knew the names of

Like bread, blood, bone.

Now everything is a text

 

And I need an interpreter,

A dictionary, a health plan

And a bigger bucket.

A much bigger bucket.