Flooding—too brilliant to be anything other than self-destructive

Landmines like earthworms

Sunlight burns   it’s seductive

And all that was anachronistic implodes                 narrows

My sons tiptoe down overgrown paths                                 serpents

Loved beyond bone

Repent. Rebuking the ancients, Forgetting the torrents of rain

dropped endlessly, like God was mad at us.

Perhaps I’ll never know who my mother was                                      what she implanted

Rubbing my back in clockwise circles

Read it slanted

Summertime and the livin’ is easy

Legacy weighs like a globe of pressure                   on my kidneys

Only gnarled limbs grow from redwood trees



Foolish Fish

And it always ends the same way
summers ago lovers met and lingered in the sweet
and like poetry they loved
and like fate they suffocated in the violet.

It is one way of doing things:
Breathe (here) to feel these moments.
Let’s switch places and watch the world turn for awhile (and you can smoke if you want to)

I read in the stars today that it could never be
they twinkled, winking bright eyes at me
The dolphin-man-prophet told me you could never think of me
who has the time to resuscitate a fish?

let’s get to the core (soul!) of things (let’s shout)
Dance with me, let my hips swing in time with yours,
and put your hands (here)
Watch me, because I heard from the mouth of God
that you were no good for me.
Time is stifling.

Malleable, mold me and I will bend
reedlike I will sway in the wind
Many positions you can fuck me in.

Didn’t you know I was a dreamer?
didn’t you see me dreaming with my fish eyes, just waterin’ up in the eyes constantly?
Things are getting Kafkaesque!
My ceiling reaches my head and I cannot breathe
I have woken up a fish, lungless
There is no time to linger in the air, sweet—for time is stifling.

And my momma had told me you were cunning,
sly fox she read to me (fables to plant my dreamin’ seed)
and Malcolm I read to her
give me my voice back and wipe the nigger off me.

A star fell from the sky today and sprouted in my head
I dreamed we will never be
because my gills are not adapted for land, love
I asked God (while I swam and conversed with 3 dolphins):
What does it mean that I have also dreamed of drowning?
doomed to die of the gasping kind

I learned you are inquisitive
Lick your lips and touch me (there)
Reduce me to my organs and maybe you can find air too, but time is stifling.

Summers ago, when they were young and hopeless
lovers melted in the sweet violet
delicate like poetry they loved
But Shakespeare had already fated these two
It is written on wire that I am glasslike, frail;
transparent in my love and gaunt in my mourning
You are wired to be indifferent.

The ground did not tremble
nor did waters creep into the veins of downtown
But I did shake and groan when I heard from the full lips (for he is a black man) of God
that I was a foolish fish to think it could be.

And I knew from the beginning that you were all male
male hands and male limbs and male sweat and male love
and I wanted to curl up in this man-thing
but I learned I cannot breathe in this air, my body is scarred in the healing

You are many things, too many people to keep count of,
and I am a dreamer.
God told me that I, foolish fish, cannot love these, for how will they seed me?
how can anything grow of this?

I am more than lips hips skin and gills


Most would like to believe
Newborns have not capacity
To dream terror.
Fundamental to growth,
Nourishment like nectar,
Greedily drink of Greek gods.

Nectar lies on the same page as Negro in my thesaurus,
Touching and tingling
Margins with shine.
I sparkle on the page and gleam in the meaning.

Birthed new; innocent; ignorant
To Time changed and rooted
Shadow, light, then hue.
Plunging into space and
[                                                              ]

Behind tiny eyelids,
Auto REM activated,
Mouth turned down,
Feathered brows furrowed,
Terror chokes.

Aesthetic Science

Anthropometry is poetry justified of the Rossetti style (Jenny is a woman and Jenny is a whore).

Symmetry enfleshed is the numerical reduction of corporeal material.

The measurement of a man rapes and infantilizes the beauty of a woman.

And now we are forced into CARNAL ART, the new avant-garde of a cyborgian generation.

Still there is hope for us…

Beyond the suffocating borders that house like sweatshops, there are meadows of nonrace, lakes of nonsex, and skies of nonclass.

The future is homogenously beautiful and the never-before-achieved UTOPIA is a certainty.

The DISEMBODIMENT of our minds is the liberation of our souls.

beyond the encumbrance of mortality
beyond the myth of original sin
beyond –isms and Manifestos
beyond the egoistic (I)

And now we are the perfect NATION, unaware of our differences and ignorant of our possibilities.

The aesthetic is a program and woman is calmly racked numerically, by chip number, in storage files.

What Poetry Once Was

It is like being held under

A glacial-thick layer of ice,

And there is only a lip level of pure air to breathe deep.

I am choking in gasps

of chest-tightening-cold water.

I struggle to time the arm movements that keep me afloat

And the breaths that keep me alive.

It is hard not to panic.

If only I could push through.
If only I could chip through.
If only I could be away from here.

Here I am lonely and here I am frightened.

Perhaps if I’d never known the brilliance of sunshine bathing my brown skin browner,

Or the sensation of hands firmly moving over my body;

Perhaps if I’d never known pleasure,

I would not be so deeply distraught here

In this cold.