Monthly Archives: May 2015


The new ideal is a grey Dancing man, . Whose mind you do not know. In his Mesmerizing fingers you See Earth’s ushers, Hand-me-downs coaxed Authentically to prepare an overture Grabbing the sandman from the interstate exit.

“The Ghetto”

I have all these faculties and nothing to do with them. So in my mind, form crosshairs. The hot matrix boxes my caste, I see the glare of the lights. All supposed nurtures have stood in mocking. At the end of the day The teacher will go home to remonstrances, Reeling back in his mind […]

“Heal My Steps”

You better heal my steps When the foot bridge closes, ‘Cause they ain’t teachin’ nothin’ Good in school, . Just about how great the white man is, How we’re all movin’ toward amnesia When it’s hostility, tear gas In the streets, the Principal . Standing with a fat Face hovering Watching You dance And she […]


Cursed primates, Standing with no needs, This is what we’ve ascended from, . To cast vulgarness of A still, forsaken pond, our stars So unmistakeable . As to galvanize little hand dials Into one figure, One cosmic figure.

“Reminder Decanter”

A smile I get In this life When I’m pitching clay into the lagoon, . Advertising thrust to mold When the avengers’ cosmic sea Has already hurled me around moons, Eyes.

“Taxi Driver”

Sure, it’s gotten better, The city, The pilgrims have passed through and we’re unified, I’ve seen it in the oscillating neck muscles of a social worker How to be damned Is on fan, ceiling, spinning.

“Qualms of Initiated Slavery Beseeched”

The thought hits me, sometimes relinquishing the endeavor of something you’re bad at is every bit as crucial and defining as persisting in an effort in something you’re good at.

“Those Same Brick Buildings”

I’ve come to detest those brick buildings I loved so much when I first moved back here To the Midwest, . The lovelorn, They know no shrapnel Because they are shrapnel it’s Quelling of the rip tide of association As you stomp up shore.


Your body was blue, A pale, barely colored blue, But it was nude and you were beautiful, And you had wings . So that I thought I should do something, But I was suspended, Pedaling back to infancy A gore to rhyme of navels.

“On Nerves”

A stoppage of identity ceases to be a problem once it’s recognized as such.