King- Love Song
i moved through like a finger through ink.
i can not remove the history.
i hot pace the floor counting steps.
when the algorithm fails,
i spend days washing those sorrows
off a bed of nails.
the people’s mouth gape
at a thunder cup of lies.
i see this and grow sick.
when they can’t find the right tools
i pinch my nose long enough to let them
use me to record their stories.
i admire their devotion.
they don’t smell their enemies.
I Don’t Miss It
In the end the moon
rolls a tidal night
onto the city.
a night that is not only night
but also a reminder of
all the reasons why
time never looks back
and water is always running
back into itself
If I lean into the past.
If I step-without caution-into what was.
like memory, he knows how
reopen historic wounds.
always conversations that
that repeat themselves
"I want you to know that I’m here for you."
Where were you before?
beasts in the half light (after kwame dawes)
When ,after two days, he is moaning underneath me
- possibly startled at his luck- he won’t know
how easy it was to say yes to him.He won’t know
that I have given myself so often,
ingested so many men, that the sound
he confuses for the rustle of sheets is
really the grand march of the echoes
of men just like him.
The rest is all a ruse of passion.
I call it a savage grace for his sake.
in the morning he will leave for work
the joy at the night he had crystallizing
just above his head in the freezing air
and i will sit here waiting
for his conscience to evaporate