I Prefer Not To.
you didn’t click like
that’s all I needed
to know
forget the fact
that you might not
have seen it
that you might
be inundated
with the incessant burdens
of life’s duress
forget
the fact
that life exists
for you
outside of myself
but most of all
forget
that you
might not
have actually liked it
forced
into a crowded room
never
will that moment leave me
savagely
they barked their orders
all but one
was made to follow
unable
for reasons unknown
still
they beat him
heavy metal
tracers did surround his face
wailing
like a dog
in death throes
begging
for some form of mercy
slowly
it kept creeping toward me
his ever growing pool
of fresh blood
finally
it stopped
until they dragged him
to the room adjacent
ragged stewards
rushed in with mops
frantic to erase
the cold truth
blaring from the
windowed hallway
still
they struck him
struck him
still
never
was there any question
this man
had done nothing wrong
all that they had seen
was black
the color of his human flesh
for what it seemed
he surely passed
neither the first
nor the last
silent
is the call for justice
plastic badges
shine as gold
exacting
their will
at leisure
as black men suffer
tales untold
this pithy endeavor
shadows of dust
masquerading through time
i looked away
laughing
returning
to barrenness
the warmth
of her touch
once
insisted eternity
how quickly
it vanished
seen
through open eyes
this sand
shifts beneath us
swallowing memories
until we are hollow
devoid
of our sentiments
i still walk beside her
footsteps
in spectral snow
when all
turned to nothing
and she was no longer
and i
left behind
[image credit: Odilon Redon]
stranded
between the contrast
defining the moon
a face
e’er blazoned
to man
dark
and unseen
vibrant
and garish
either
is not
what it seems
long before light
cleft the heavens in twain
a movement
of manhood emerged
unlike the unsavory
dissidents prior
his was a station deserved
he fostered conviction
amongst the rapt populace
stoically instilling mindful revolt
fully apprised of philosophies spoken
unlike static sophists consisting of molt
fervent emotions born of empathy
ever consuming his radiant heart
salient locution so poignantly posed
lingered long after he bid to depart
tales of his august aplomb echoed through the vales
prose poised to avail the downtrodden denizens
parlance empowering dispelled compatriots
apposite to proletariat wards
forged in the fires of familial defect
stuttering sopor
societal ire
nonetheless, pwning the epic drum solo
from “too hot for teacher” when he was but twelve
not having given an “F” he sought “T”
and tempered his mind with the breadth thus required
of the scant few i regard as elite
he is one by whom i’m duly inspired
Deep within this tattered husk lies the hope
to someday avow this Marxist of a man
of every last tender kiss wrought by his words
intended for naught but to better this land
red, green, and blue
black, white, and gray
quiddity
is not a crime
if not for your lips
as they rest on your face
would your kiss then
no longer be yours
is ego content
with ill-gotten conclusion
your virtue
my heart doth avow
to all the world
this
i shall ever aver
requite not these words
with the burden of speech
in tacit skies
we remain boundless
unwinding allusions
to infinite realms
where idyll
submits not
to idealization
[image credit: Vittorio Zecchin]
to see you
is to understand
the urgent sway
of gravity
the spectrum
of infinite hues
precious molecules
in bonding
you fill my primal senses
with the knowledge
thought divine
in truth
i am nothing
if not
for this
suffering
fleshed
of sighs
in nuanced
rebuttal
abjection
from sanity
lost
spectrums span
ceaselessly
i dare be sworn
to behold
the bane
of my dedition
i am
overtaken
by desolate space
once warmed
by the presence
of a comrade
now absent
surrendered
to emptiness
pray not
this
vacant eve
suicide
can swoon you
come the solstice moon’s
return
in spite of its obsequious attendance
on the fives and tens
some would even say
it was romantic
though i’m not inclined
to justify your prying
either way
airing such affairs
errs most uncouth
besides this documenting
circumstances
spare no time to tarry
only in the spongecake
of a soft and silky
skull-bound stockade
does a tolerance
evince
alas, these are but
ramblings
of a mordant
man-made mood
so pardon me
for pissing
on your balsamine
impatiens
[image credit: Frantisek Kobliha]
Max, or Not 
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