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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Variety


who decides ‘or’

? how unfortunate are those

who have power over choice!

here in cells w/ stow away

diversity

there is only ‘and’

crawling into pores

forces tongues

to reform / revolt /

rear-end

codeswitches stuck

on one more signal

up ahead at crossroads

needed to be crossed

to reach next

reference point.

*

this is both a determiner and the determined

this – the first person

– singular / collective

this – specific. definite.

of this who has control?

glory be to the world of options,

to the land of variety.

Level Up and Off


gave in and kept on

till

what wouldn’t stop

would have to cave in

even became the offshoot

of eventually

t turned to d

and paired up

got tangled

and let

a couple of grudges

go.

*

it’s  Christmastime – after all –

after all

in reciprocity

a villain for every village

without any appeal.

but,

have faith there’s always room for one more trope

a cliche

to fit any affair

.

shells

egg drop

strangers

eyes

tofu

chopsticks

tradition forged

by guild

of

no other options

*

whose name is that? say it again

haven’t heard it since summer

if the sun

was a mirror

how unseasonable

it would be

how out of order it might be,

what achievements it could unlock

, how easy it would be

for the brightness

of itself

and earth

below,

stars for light years around

to

level up

and off

.

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

Another’s Lines


Some days reading is more a task of imagination – staring – off the page

instead of following scripts

Sometimes early on,

moving late into night

words

are more shards

than window or mirror

Each page alternates between

one last chance and one time

The blazed path is somehow rocky

and switchbacks

switch no more

the slope is angled

almost 90 degrees

and the road cut

right up the median

The blanket a half inch of wool, cotton or snow

all seen a good chance against this

City and country both real

but the words so strewn

make no stops

at either station

Then this pen has to equip itself for travel

to the end

not being reached

today

in another’s lines

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/