My home has finally hosted a welcome
An approach to the body
Window curtains dry heave a greeting…
On behalf of this corpse…thankless foreshadowing…wrenched spines rolled into one
lovely
street being…San Quentin mortgage…spinning the commune gun…my political
brother
I noticed the legs first
unfinished short’nin’ bread on a table painted for reconstruction and noose futurism
porters on a thunderbolt
interpreting dreams in a poem and I don’t have a lot of time
riding poverty through the night’s bracketed belly
alongside bumpers adorned with colored ribbons made of flesh
alongside nouveau-meek…little mister disfigured psyche…dressed in the new thread
count…birth of execution-method-diversity-beings…mass voicings of copper
jackets…
starved-
for heroes with fantasies of being “relevant to power”
Through ghettos of exhaustion
I noticed the torso part of fear
I deny the united states exists
Older shadows pulling politics from a panicked body
Writing hand loose…distracting the streets from love and happiness
Pulling an anthem out of the cemetery that they fed my favorite people to
Missed the entire spring to a sadness I even let show…portrait displayed inward…
Audience in the back of my father’s skull…face bruised and relaxing…running fingers
over the thousands of racist scalps…roosting in firing pins
Of course they put me in the ground, for sure, but not enough of me
to keep me out of the tarot card I will beat into your face, officer, respectfully
And what…you troubled by these boring scenes of unity?