The flames enveloping
the corpse of the slave
are lapping at the feet of the master.
fleeing from the unsayable
warm glow of memory
i am running sideways through things.
the violence inherent
in the flesh
The feeling of pages in my hands.
This has become my primary reality.
That, and the superior transient joys.
The ants crawling across my body.
Eash one a lesson in patience,
The sun summons a flame
that rises through my flesh
surfacing in blissful
Our bodies dance 'round
and come together
intertwining all our contradictions.
like lust lose
inside of my,
a rapturous surrender.
Tower over me,
a monument of muscle.
cannout be found
amidst all the bickering
in cinder blocks
held by pliers
The most wretched
shadows can imitate men.
It is nothing special.
But they are, finally, phantasms
and incapable of this
realness glimpses in dreams and sex and prayer
The spit evaporates into nothingness
but here we feel the heat of affirmation
in the breath of a lover
the exchange with a distant being in a close dream
being cradled by the ancestors 'round that ancient flame
And words do not mean much
approaching these lightning bolts
burning with realness
i am suffocating because my breath cannot touch your neck.
have chosen the path of life
i swear to you in this wretched ink
that must be waded through like a black swamp
That you will not have to bury me.
The gray skies pull the sorrow
so gracefully condensed into such a short time
to the surface of my face,
and in the cold i cough alone
Mother i have foresaken you.
Now i will not shed tears
which never comforted me
But where can i go for warmth
only found in Mothers?
In this time of sowing
cut off from the womb
i exist on a desolate plain
with no fire, no warm embraces
Did we ever know
a time of reaping
amid all the laughter and
lightheartedness of foregone days?
Only by persevering through this
darkness can we come to love
is on the minds
of so many so young
beautiful souls and wretched
of former warmth
desolate, to the touch
What kind of space are
we passing through?
Were it not
for the brevity
in creation's process
i too would have slipped
to such a jagged passing
to be pulled in so
many frivolous directions
i lose track of my
What have i done
to deserve this?
Why have we come
to pass through this space?
"January 17, 2015"
It would be so much better
to crawl into that summer
what seems like a lifetime ago
There was the rattle and the thunder
the sweat and the tears
the hunger and the innocence
The warmth of his companionship,
the most intimate i have ever known.
eating our soup
after soccer, or exercise,
the orange glow of the setting sun
spilling through the bars
We talked about everything
with our mouths and our hearts and our eyes
We entered into an intimate vulnerability
and his beauty overwhelmed me.
i still love him,
and am learning to love him more
He walked with me, sat with me,
shielded me and set an example for me
and we passed the time together.
What can be said about the love?
It was the greatest i have ever known
and i shiver at the slightest thought
of those passionate nights amidst that vast silence.
"Social Justice in the Year 2032"
The crowd surged in the direction of Downtown, the city center.
There were thousands of them, amny delusional from hunger, drugs and sleep deprivation. It was difficult to determine just how many there were.
As they came to the bridge that separated their neighborhoods from the city center several black helicopters, monstrous insects, formed a line some five hundred feet in the air above the bridge. Loudspeakers boomed: "Return to your homes. Do not attempt to cross this bridge, or we will take action."
Some towards the front of the mob attempted to stop, to turn around. But there were too many forcing their way forward.
After the mob made it about one hundred feet onto the bridge it began to stop, as people began stumbling and collapsing in the street. Some were vomitting. This was due to the audio frequencies being emitted from the helicopters. No human with functioning ears could withstand it. But some had learned to adapt, blocking their ears adequately enough to continue forward. As this more experience crowd came within two hundred yards of the middle of the bridge (above which the helicopters hovered), lasers began dancing among them. Some fell to their knees, hands clasped to their faces. The disorienting lasers were overcome by most of these experienced rioters through the use of specially-developed sunglasses.
However, after this core group of rioters came another seventy-five feet or so further, the helicopters began unleashing a different kind of laser. One that boils flesh. In an instant dozens of rioters began howling in extreme torment as their flesh heated and popped and oozed beneath their homemade armor. Still some 200 people persisted along the bridge, and the helicopters unleashed their .50 caliber machine guns, quickly reducing the rioters to a heap of corpses.
And the loudspeakers boomed: "Terrorist aggression will not be tolerated."
A rock, from a slingshot no doubt, pinged off the bullet-proof glass of the cockpit. The rattling of the machine guns came to a stop, and all that could be heard in the crisp night was the moans of the dying.