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ATMOSPHERIC ARCADES
in an atrium of ash-
black holes barricade their bony compost of
crushed cities in a crossfire of
death documentaries; deliberately
edited so that every execution ends in envelopes
fanned out like fish scales or five card stud
or geese gathered geometrically
herons hovering as for homecoming or hallucination.
Invasive insects have made the inauguration inaccessible!
A jigsaw of japonica petals justify
knitting kite strings with kelp and knives
lacerating a large amount of loose lemons
more meadowhead machines
more muscular mirrors
its our national nostalgia for natal narcotics
or orphans overlooked in other
parishes - prisoners in platform pumps of
quartz. Under quarantine quilts, a quiet
riot of rhythms, rage residue
scrubbed from a skeleton of soot.
In this timeline, their throats
ululate under upturned umbrellas!
Very violent voices in the vestibule.
Where have all the winos wandered?
an xl x-axis of spit gurgles its solo on the xenophobic xylophone.
Some yahoos yapping in the yard about its Yankee
zealot from Zion zonked out on zucchini
MISSILE FOR FOOD
for tongo eisen-martin
will walk on a missile for food
will sing a song of teargas for repast
momma usedta walk 37 missiles in nuclear fallout
to harvest enough food to feed a family of four
whenever a missile migrates overhead, I open my mouth. I am:
a bird
a tourist
walking dead
hungry
i will sing a song of teargas for repast
if you can recite the pledge of allegiance in time,
this bullet will fry itself into a chicken wing
whenever a missile migrates overhead, i open my mouth. i am:
a bird
a tourist
walking dead
hungry
will twerk 4 housing: will shoot 4 shelter:
will turf dance rolling rims of mushroom clouds
4 cotton candy
if you can recite the pledge of allegiance fast enough,
this bullet will fry itself into a chicken wing
(make sure your allegiance is wanted)
And He rebuked the air’s ignition and shattering and said:
Missile! Bring Food!
And the debris became man and the flames became falafel
will twerk 4 housing: will work as ballistic target 4 food:
will turf dance rolling rims of mushroom clouds
4 cotton candy
Did you have a tough coup?
If you’ve got a van full of hungry revolutionaries
Pull on up to the glowing arches...
And He rebuked the air’s ignition and shattering and said:
Missile! Bring Food!
And the debris became man and the flames became falafel
momma usedta walk 37 missiles in nuclear fallout
to harvest enough food to feed a family of four
Did you have a tough coup?
If you’ve got a van full of hungry revolutionaries,
Pull on up to the glowing arches
You deserve a detonation to hush that appetite
Will walk a missile 4 my field sobriety test
my dna has 400 years of probable cause
Yes I understand your instructions
Heel n’ toe. Heel to toe. Walk and turn.
And do not stop until me and my family are left for fed.
FIRE CRACKERS
the sky sheds hot apples of light
rapacious grins slashed across the throat of the sky
this in celebration of war
which we worship with tears in our eyes
in this church of vampires
we obediently raise our faces
to the falling dead
at the appointed time
while tithes of loyalty are looted
from our back pockets
we are blindfolded in faith at this service
where we slice open stolen cultural lambs
on a pew of slot machines
our prayers full of shrapnel
swarm to Reconstruct the truth
these prayers are all processed catch phrases
and repurposed ad campaigns
the last freestyle sampled from a dying mouth
Nightly I check myself for bite marks
a rubber stamp of lips
proof of percussion in sucking
its the brains insistence on untying knots
secured by the tongue
this isn’t prayer dancing: its response to
infestation; a swarm of the wrong gods
healing parishioners with fortune cookie astrology
we pray just to breathe in certain spaces
and you expect us to pay weekly to be suffocated
TOAST TO TENDERNESS
i planned a toast to tenderness, but the ice in this drink is full of thorns
certain words detonate when whispered; my mouths impact crater, its gaping maw of shrapnel, its incisors of glass
since my breath harmonizes the key of blood there are certain gospels I’m forbidden to sing
my voice makes enemies in rooms where I’m clearly understood
certain words detonate when whispered; my mouths’ impact crater, its gaping maw of shrapnel, its incisors of glass
post traumatic conversations with a parasitic tongue twitching electric
my voice makes enemies in rooms where I’m clearly understood
among certain strangers I cannot take a deep breath
post traumatic conversations with a parasitic tongue twitching electric
since my breath harmonizes the key of blood there are certain gospels I’m forbidden to sing
among certain strangers I cannot take a deep breath
i planned a toast to tenderness but the ice in this drink is full of thorns
FLIRTING PHLEBOTOMISTS
she straps me to a high chair like it's my last night a bachelor
once i peel out of my shirt, shit gets real
I might have to turn the fan on, she says
She flips her red box braids like a cat o’ nine tails
After tying me off, she smacks my arm for any productive bulge
but my hide and seek veins get blood shy
shrinking capillaries reverse flow baby lick the needles tip
so she calls for backup
I was just getting some, she said. Then it stalled and stopped
Girl, tell me about it
The second tech had old tricks, of course
her fingers dowsing, tapping code on my arm like checking a melon for sugar
He offered his neck a minute ago, the first tech said
He wanted to neck? the second one gasped
That’s what he say, the first insisted,
then blew on my fist to relax my hand
With both arms petted and frisked, I blushed a new color
But that second tech knew the call and response of blood
how every cell came to her like a hungry school of fish
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