Take Place


Been rubbernecking. Keeping an eye out for where time took an odd moment to add an extra scar to the road.

*

The last ditch that took some effort to carve. To assure a certain waylay for someone just needing to get away.

*

The truth for all its power sets everybody else free but itself. Instead chooses transformation. Settles for concealment. To be protected from witnessing itself.

*

Can’t turn my back on myself but my back also won’t look me in my face so what good’s a back anyway? If it didn’t come with the body why would anyone even bother having one?

*

The faults furthered the cause of the tectonic shifts. Line breaks will always be a part of this world. Each side is a stanza. The earth quakes suddenly understanding another version needs to take place. This place.

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Tongues for Days


purling this timidity into

cities translated by clouds

as forever rests

on gossipers’ tongues.

*

gulls been fending for

and fending off

longer than this shyness

ever existed.

 

electricity’s been static

fingertips

discovered nothing

but an experience.

*

didn’t go / didn’t get

mad

but took in a tear

on receiving news.

 

sheltered sadness

fostered it

for sake of something.

 

parrots had nothing to repeat.

mockingbirds eased of mimicry.

 

quieted, calmed –

reflecting on the essentiality

of being

another animal.

*

instinctively,

descent comes closer to home

to find the core –

bypass wounds, scars, sore spots

to dismay of symptoms

distracting the cure

*

in fear, death rises again

within

 

breaking out

heaven from hell

fury from fate

injustice amused

*

with a distaste being mutual between

needle and cloth

thread – the only common friend –

binds both until

the job is through.

*

aloof

crammed into the corners of the mind –

holding up the walls of theories never to be

a fly holding back the boulder

telling Sisyphus

give up the task

 

what worse could possibly come?

*

rain hungers for a face

tongues for a drop

 

At/HERE


New Year’s resolution –
stop talking to yourself.
*
I have no promises to keep.

So it seems, good sense only goes so far as genius allows. As one grows increasingly informed, the desire becomes to lose commonality and the sensibility which accompanies it. What good is a sense if it is only used for good? Give me a sense which brings a sensation – hand on stove, fall from heights. Excitement in known harm but unknown consequences doled out by nature.
*
What I wanted was not really to be alone but to be head over heels over someone. Someplace for emotions to go. I’m ambitious that way.
*
Who will concur while I wait? Without a fever for the infirmary. Without need for quarantine, who else will be here to hear?
*
I don’t like ‘cool.’ I don’t like ‘beautiful.’ I don’t like. I just don’t like. Let me love something indefinable for once. Let me hate. Leave me the freedom to go beyond dislike to the extremist position against certain notions. Let me have floors and ceilings in this room. Leave my food by the door. I’ll swallow it when it cools off a bit.
*
In solitude, I take even the public rather personally. Get offended or let joy arise from those passing by.
*
Consequences are irrelevant to cruelty.
*
Am I guilty of or for irony? What liberty, what power in producing, being, becoming another ending – only somewhat unexpected. Because, who doesn’t account for the curse of the paradox?
*
I am barbaric. Or I was. Or I want to be. Anyway, Barbary is close to me.
*
What forms of expression are at my disposal?

Have I seemed happy for at least some of the time?

Maybe in the end it will appear (to be) more apparent.
*
Somebody is talking about a fear of airplanes and I’m here thinking about a fear of talking to anyone or in particular – a someone across the room from here.

Neither these nor those books are shields. And besides, a proper glance caught in spectacular timing cuts right through.

Oh, but a look caught in flight can see a lot of turbulence.
*
Patience will always prove random is regular. Chaos dictates how the lines will shorten. No turns are being taken, orderly, while waiting.
*
Does one exist who is deserving as much of admiration as affection?

I feel I’ve been born into a banned life. I think I understand now that there is no room in languages frequented or neglected for duality. For similarity to feel the same.

This soul came passed down from those passed on with certain policies intact. Boycott the insincere. Embargo bad faith. Find distant compassion for those who are fake only because otherwise there would be no need to ever use words. There’d be no comprehension of a range of emotions.

Nonetheless, I’ve given up on smiling.

(originally published in eccolinguistics)

Because Advertising is the Only Gospel to Give Credence To


free to weigh ourselves each morning

and again at night

free to document change

allow ups to be downs

to care more for those numbers

than the alphabets

built into bookshelves

and cave walls

Relying On


Relying on no entrance

thought becomes

is

and therefore

thinks for itself

 

Processing an exit

as continuity

 

Fearing its own disjoint

as the essence

of death

 

Which also has no reliance.

New Work at Queen Mob’s Teahouse


New Work is up at Queen Mob’s Teahouse

Expand

. . .

how did we grow up into this place?
what trades landed us here?

I was busy being a bookmark earlier, stuck in the middle of the story. I was a paperweight trying to keep the plot pinned down. I was not made for conversation. or I was but I lost my destiny getting here.

. . .

http://queenmobs.com/2015/10/poem-kenyatta-jean-paul-garcia/

Portrait


Olives come in green, black and between

rice has hull removed

and sits in stomach

white.

Beans are a plate of kidneys

in grease and garlic

 

Chickens walk on dark

cluck comes up

from the light.

 

Dinner leaves its origins

on stove

before reaching plate

 

Stains remain

where Clorox and Brillo

fail

 

Next meal is served,

cooking tasked

to new hands

different tastes.