set out on hoofin it then found the feets get weary so risk’d it
in the late nite traffic
downhill on a broken bike
swell.
see i went to the museum this a.m.
polite and such
then over to the articulation of what’s in here needin
my heart valves to vent
their lil syncopated rhythms of muscle, sinew,
synapse, electro-lights of my front mind…
so…
it’s been a iffy weekend and i gets my sweet ass kicked out
of love-eyes, sweet heart, soft breath, fierce heartland for free, for gawd’s sake
whatzzat??
nothing but a hot good dam, i’m saying, my tweak’d patience
just fly by
over that median and airborned you ain’t tellin me…
whatzzat? I’m sayin and someone’s wantin me to right this way,well…
i waz jes sayin, for gawd’s sake and the dude ask’d me
o lord…
i conjure up my best yes’m, buddha of compassionate christ o jesus my lil black ass all tangled
up in this some crazy ass man is scaring
patrons?? well… i’m breathing better and i gots my horn and i’s stanin
in the sunlite and i’m taking inventory:
counter rhythms are bred into me besides.
i am loosely arkestral
i am loosely furnished
i am everbody’s young friend…
We be’s de one’s wit de spirit emulated half assedly
one finger: i am loosely arkestral
two finger: i’s smiling
3: i loosely
4: bill collector calls when i finish The Glass Castle appalachian tome
i take it as a sign:
i knew i didn’t make money and no matter to matter bout that.
hell…
let charlie be da narrator or the secretary or worse:
let her hair dred up in the australian humidity so we are all purpose & amp;
we could call poetry nonsense or everythang
so’s we be really kicked out in the rain laughing.
that’s that mad thing they got goin. a jam more marmalade, sweet
darlin…
oh! call me shadow bear for the hibernation is upon us
and mushrooms sprout in corners
ah, in exile now…
rain pelt on sleepy face
steal food from garbage can and coats have no button
i finger this notblown horn: i knew my lips would go dead, well? it’s a passing paralysis…
our pilgrimage would work if we weren’t so passive but that is the point
it ain’t that serious or commonplace neither. so…
i am loosely arkestral/ancestral/furnished…
i am loosely what it is you shame out the doors of free vision, scat!
you lose the privilege of art! you mutt thang, you nut.
that author, more on fire than you comes ridin
greyhounds come from Michiganand we kickin back in some thrift store jordans
to say hell,we’ll just eat our pancakes cooked in nonsense,
we’ll just channel a duke and some damn fine duchesses,
we
sleep on the floor,we
be famous in the midnight with dingo yips and a coyote softshoe
yeah, i been to new orleans…
yeah, paris…uh huh
loosely unknown
the weekend is iffy,
spiffy african-hillbilly-displaced friendsand dredded up secretary of soul,
but i tested de longevity and i’m gonna have to marinate, moonchile.
ah, a vinyl hendrix thang.
ok.
water.
—a conjoint fabrication of his imminency Ariyah Joseph and yours cordially, Marie Monroe
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