These broken brights are singing me a song,
It's like they know where we began from,  
I listen with intent,
They're singing without your consent,
But you make a slip, hum along,
And quickly retract, as if that's something wrong,

These broken brights, carry traces of your light,
It helps me see, through the darkest night,
Your shadow emerges, and quickly leaves,
Caught in the act, a pack of thieves,

These broken brights with a scent of your musk,
Get stronger every evening, my companions of dusk,
You blow off their flame, but they burn strong,
These broken brights are mine, they'll sing our song

Two years into adulting.
It’s possible, who knew?
I look the same as yesterday
But today I’m twenty two!

Dentist trips still freak me out,
Sometimes I burn an egg.
My blanket covers both my feet,
So monsters won’t grab my leg.

I don’t go out on Friday night,
My ankles feel the weather.
And when I help the kids with homework,
We both learn math together.

Sometimes I’ll burst out crying
For no reason at all.
I know the words to one rap song,
And still prefer guys tall.

My puns are all intended,
There is a spoon I hate,
I’ll never mix my whites and brights,
I can’t stay up too late.

My life has been a wild ride
But I’m thankful for each day.
One day I hope to be mature,
One day... but not today.

We sleep
Beneath the tree boughs;
Beckoning brights, dancing between branches.
We rest
Underneath a canopy of suspended glitter;
A quilt of infinite fabric
Woven from inter-netted eternities.
A noiseless face
Bathed with interstellar dust
Across her freckled constellations.
A perfect cosmic cadence
Dissolving into dawn.

You make my skin crawl,
Like writhing maggots beneath,
Like the innocent child's scrawls,
Tainting my canvas, my skin.

Your words, they pierce me,
Like the ***** of a needle.
Caressing, so fatally,
Over the scarred, raised skin,

The years of mistreat,
Has treated me harsh,
Showing meat so starved,
Brittle bones over skin.

The world! Such a joke,
Made of him, her and you.
My existence, mere smoke,
Our stories, nothing but skin.

For skin show where we've traversed,
The roads we have trod,
A beautiful canvas,
Of cools, brights and skin.

I am proud of my masterpiece,
It's whittled into my skin.

From the lines embossed to my chest,
To the intricate blend of colors,
The white spiraling scars,
Etched deeper than skin.

Here I stand,
Here I scream.
Proud of the bands,
That bind me as one, my skin.

Black power!

I stopped hiding from my roots, I do not let my natural tightly coiled strands become chemically manipulated into bone straightness. I'm no longer hiding from my roots.
My natural hair will represent this

I went on an interview today for a position as a dental assistant, checked out the office on the website right after and then
oh no
The staff is all white, what if I don't get hired because of...

Black Power!

I stopped hiding from my roots; the sun is not my enemy. I no longer veil from its rays because the fear of getting "blacker." Look at that skin; love its rich deep melanin. Follow my movement; I'm no longer hiding from my roots.
My black skin will prove this

The other night I went out with a couple of new friends,
to be more precise they were homemade Alantians.
Born and raised in Atlanta!
It was a nice warm night, and at the end of it they wanted to take some pics to post up on their instagrams. But guys wait; let’s get into the light, I don’t want to appear all dark next to you light brights. You are all mixed which makes you effortlessly good lookin'
snap
Ugh I hate it I'm to black, don’t post that.

I stopped hiding from my roots, I rock my tightly coiled natural strands.
I'm not ashamed of who I am, Look at my skin and its deep rich melanin  
Walking with my fist raised up in the air to represent what I on a daily contradict.

Black Power!

Forgive me, I'm new to this. When I was growing up the things that embodied our black nation was never accepted.

Black power! I'm ready to follow this radical movement.

You sad fool. My dear, old friend
How I find myself waiting for you again.

Your eyes drive into mine, with brights on,
and you leave palpable words hanging in the air with the writings by your teeth,
without a mouth to open, just jaw clenched, no recognition of existence,
And your hands are soldering irons cooled clenched until clashing into my air
Touching time, and instantaneously heating space, as an element
Reaching Avogadro's number, ten to twenty-third
Holes appear between us.

I remember when we used to laugh
And mostly at each other,
but not as we do now.

There was no malice.
One day maybe there will be solace.

"You act as though I'm a nice guy"
So it's true you like to objectify
The object (oh, the irony) of your affection
Which is anything that cares to mention
How creative was your invention
It was not my intention to
Organize a fluidity to the scrutiny
And the staged mutiny of what was a foundation.
For it's not representative to your thumbprint.

I feel no organization here. You have ordered chaos.

Francisco,
Bring up your lights.
Just remember that you look best at night, when the moon is carved into the sky
and your real intentions revealed.
Where you sit upon that pale desk
And wrap your knuckles against the floor,
Stab with a quill the pools you leave behind,
to write your ***** recollection,
Just remember you look best when your tears catch this starlight.

Francisco, bring up your ****** lights.

A mirror is never just your reflection,
My mother once said
The mind has this devilish way of
Twisting
Things around
Making then a lot more or a lot less
That what stands before me
Suddenly
My face isn't my face anymore
Instead
I stare blankly at a blueprint
Society itself has hand-sketched
For me.
Post-it's on where things had gone wrong
Scribbles on things I needed less of
Highlighters on places I needed
Brighter brights
Thinner thins
And I just stood there
Watching
As these self-proclaimed architects
Unraveled
The plans they had for a body that wasn't theirs.
Accepting
The new rooms they had drawn next to the ones that already existed,
The ones that were always there
The ones I made a home out of,
The mole on my ear
That never seemed out of place
Until,
The impact of a critical post it told me so.
The place where my thighs met
I've always ignored,
Assuming I was normal
But the scribbles that
Begged
For less of me,
Proved otherwise.
The marks of stretched skin
I considered battle scars over a few calories at a buffet table
Nullified
By society's architects
Disapproved
As if it were up to them
Invalid
Like human came in the form of overruns
But I stare at this blueprint that suggests to change me from
Floor to floor
Head to toe
And wonder
If the one who owns the lot in which I am
Wonder
If He wanted to change me anymore than them
If He liked the original rooms
More than the ones carved to fit the trends
If He wanted me to ignore the architects
And the drafts of copies
And copies
And copies
Of different versions of me

Didn't He want me to accept the mirror for who I am?

"And Abraham drew near, and said,
Wilt thou also destroy the righteous with the wicked?"
- Genesis 18:23

I

There are about four thousand people
Here.
They throng in blasted heat like
Little arid wasps.
Gasping summer rain,
Like the opposite of fish.
Of their individual character
I can give no generality.

They are men and women,
They stand on roofs and
Sleep on their words.
They are hot and cold
And they hate and scold.
They are devils and stars
And ***** and priests
And children of priests.
Orators, they are also:
The speakers of the state (which
Is hotter than they could
Ever know); they steal
And reel and impose their
Splitting fingernails deep into
The varnish of the
Wishing well.

They are men and women,
They stand on roofs and
Smother dreams by spitting on the sky.

II

Fox. Come and light my little room
With your brilliant breath. Have you
Come very far? From the eye of the trees?

I should leave this little town if I were you.
It has its ways and leeches from our
Dangling hands. A tongue named Lethe.

Wake early and flee back to your dark,
Summon that green corpus shell that
You came from and follow its outlying root.

You should know the power of the vine.
It crawls in the blinding night and
Strangles what it cannot feed upon.

Oh my little fox, I beg you turn back,
For in familiarity lies strength and nothing
In this wilderness will give you nourishment.

III

He walks in waterways and crunches bone.
He watches moonlight play on open wounds.
He wishes dearly for the ends of weeks.
I heard him live his life without a sound.

The high school band with a treble clef. The year
Of empty penmanship in which he wrote
A thousand notes and mailed them underground
About which neither parent knew a thing.

Encounters best discovered some years later
Work to redden ears in coffee shops,
Or rather as I’m talking to him now,
With darting speech and halting eyes and all.

Perhaps the atmosphere could lend itself to blame,
The hormones and the collusive ennui.
But little charms the tear ducts quite like saying,
“Why am I this way, do you suppose?”

I haven’t got the heart to make reply
And often pose myself the same question
Before the mirror thinking of my whims,
The muddied roads that led me where they did.

My time has run itself to pieces in
The hope of spreading my horizons, but
Some sand runs faster in the way, some gains
More ground. And mine? This distance is unknown.

I licked the shelves of Hardy, Plath, and Keats.
I lorded over idiots with glee.
I lured the fathoms of my mind to float.
And oh, the things that he must think of me.

IV

The doors know I am coming,
They dart out of my way.
My telekinesis stops there
But I troll forward
And brandish my little iron steed.

****. Adjust my strap
And push the cart onward.
My purse like a little leather
Bundle of swaddling.
I nuzzle it close to my breast.

Frozen foods. Diet says
No carbohydrates, so I adjust
My tastes. In a little town
Like this, they’ll notice if
I don’t.

Magazine aisle. Nothing
But ***-endorsing rags
And godless photo sessions fit
For lining shelves and
little else.

Lord, this vast store!
Give me strength to bet back
To my car. God, look at
That **** at the pharmacy
Asking for birth control.

And I can’t help but
Cluck my tongue at her:
I just tell Ray I have a headache
And turn on my back.
Ha, as if she’s married.

No decency any more.
Men getting married, women too!
God supposedly “Banging” us out of
Star dust. Who are those atheists
To judge my truth?

Checkout. No, self-checkout.
I don’t like that clerk
Staring at me. Receipt.
Probably a ******* anyway.
And for a moment my mind controls the doors and all things.

V

She’s gone a bit insane.
Yesterday in class, she asked
To go to the lavatory
And just went straight home.
(Poor thing, I can’t blame
Her after all that has happened.)

She’s told me about her
Father before. Whether she’ll
End up as warped remains
To be seen. She’s got my sympathy.
(Mother dead at four, brother at
Seven and something else at twelve.)

Senior year is more than
Freedom from Dad, she says.
It’s freedom from myself,
Whatever that means.
(It is her father’s profound wish
That she memorize all of Revelations.)

From the grass, she tells me
That her father explained to her
That non-dairy creamer kills
Ants. She does it with a smile.
(We don’t have to say much more,
Suffice it to say he’s a very loud man.)

She still has an averse reaction
To stories about car crashes.
And I never read her her
Early July horoscope.
(Nightmares are too kind.
Panic sifts through windowpanes.)

Her uncle doesn’t call from
The old hometown, he was
Grabbed from her life and her
Father never says why they moved here.
(Two years her junior, she jokingly
Calls me Grandma because)

She hates her real one. Prom
And graduation. A candle
Ceremony and she’s gone.
Her father left before it was over.
(I’ll miss her, but I made
Her promise not to visit.)

VI

Hot like a miracle breath.
The two seasons: Summer
And February.
We taste the heat
And drive away for the weekend.
Of course the world ends
And the “Welcome to” sign.

Unsurprisingly,
The radio dies as we
Head back to town.
Why should the death of
An intangible surprise me?
Everything else
Dies here.

Pessimism like a mockingbird.
The smoking trees
Ripple like an Ella
Fitzgerald vowel.
Hold your
Miraculous breath
And it still won’t rain.

Our abortion
Welcomes the needle heat
with a  horrifying
Little finger.
That smile,
That smile.
Jesus.

How can it stay so
Hot? No reply,
But I forgot who
Was asking.
The irony of this ****
Town sparks my
Smile.

VII

So where are you from?

        I lived up north
Before I moved down here.
They needed teachers and
I thought “Why not?” Turns
Out this place is a lot
Slower than up where I
Came from. No offense.

(Laughs) None taken.
So what are you teaching?

Senior English. Pretty cool
Subject but I was shocked
How little the kids had been
Exposed to. I hope to remedy
That soon. (Mumbles something)
Any more problems, you know?

The parents have complained?

Oh, just the usual nitpicky
Silliness: “I don’t want my
Christa or Johnny reading
Such-and-such a book.”
After a few years, I’m
Sure the parents will lighten up.
Or, (Laughs) at least I hope.

How are the kids?

Can I actually answer that one?
One or two brights but most
Just seem ready to get out.
They’d better be willing to put
In some actual thought if
They really hope to. (Pause)
It’s not all about sports.

(Laughs) I hope you’re not too
******* the athletes. They do their best.

Well, I certainly hope
They do. I won’t play
Favorites or anything like
That. Hardly fair to the
Others, right? (Laughs,
A pause, tape ends.)

VIII

He can’t breathe.

He’s been running for
Hours.
The trees. The brush.

Wonderful veins blast
Away at their work
To preserve him;
Great fibrous tendons
Work to carry him
Away from the noise.

The murderous streets with
Scoured buildings
And trees inviting the
Convening crowds to lay
Out their burdens, to
String them up and
Ease their hard frustrations.

They have not seen him as yet.
He follows Polaris,
god of the irreverent,
Meager candle for a
Drowning man.

Exposed road; he flags
A car like a madman.
Well, we shan’t go
So far as to call him that.
And has he any bags?
No.
And which way is he going?
North.

Procession. Silence.

The coolish progress
Of a blackish
Summerish
Night.
How many minutes
out of town? and how
many moments in the
rounding cruelty of acting?
The driver smiles in his driver’s
Seat, eyes lit by the green
Display, ears filled suddenly with
Static.

The bruised night
Raises its single, white eye
Like the ponderous pitch
Of a bird.

I suppose he knew from
The second he saw the car:
There was never any sanctuary
In this little cloister.

The towns spreads like
Botulism over both windows.
He stops before the courthouse.
Stops before his jury,
Hanging judges.
And you needn‘t ask yourself
“Who are they?”

I’ll tell you.

They are men and women,
They stand on roofs.

They are boys from California
Who ran like foxes but refused
To run away.

They are musicians who lived
Their lives without a sound.

They are hopeless hags who
Speak in blinding grocery stores
And **** the gossip air.

They are girls with opportunities
Burst like an innocent cell
And violated by the heavy hand
That tucks them deep to sleep.

They are cruel little ******* who
Only wanted something to listen to
While the seasons spun around them.

They are teachers who never learned.
They are hearts that never burned.
They are heads that never cooled.
Not when it’s so hot outside.

They grew uneven like a story
Written in celebration of a meaningless title.
They have every right to be angry,
And yet they level their stones
At one another instead of the
Hell a glass house can become.

They walk so slow the sun
Can stoop and eat them up
Without the briefest guilt.

click clack, sound of the track
busted lighter, jilted firefighter
****** mosquito bleeding blighter
coffee cup, record stuck
panicked post boom stuck in a rut
had you'd never seen her, been her
watched her fly by
is it a plane, wonder bush, brick lane spy
fallen tree, dropped whispers ina wood
shoulda, woulda but never could
pushed by the wind, running around
set off faster, harder, leavin the ground
seen more war than a nu-rave punk
hit the pavement harder than a skool boy drunk
deeper, lower than before
been round the world 3 times over
prayed harder rollin around in clover
teemin, screaming anticipation, panick buy
obsessed with cuckoo, escape with a sigh
darker, lighter, tougher, cornered and lame
call my breath, take my name
shame, dusted, glory be no more
music drags me back from the shore
vacumn packed, culture vulture sister
pierced hot poker, stoke her, twist her
throwin pieces, jigsaw puzzle in the grass
pull my hair, bit my cheek, slap my ***
shorter, tighter loved a whole lot longer
pushed behind, throw back 80's stronger
straightened, heated from a blue rinse dude
i am sitting her 3 minutes from rude
throw me away from here, take a stand
eating raw from inside the hand
ruined, borken levelled tiger print sweater
20 marlboro, 2 strokes and its better
dangermouse, grotbag loved forever
tether me, feed me, clothed in dried leather
Bowie, polka dots, illuminated lights
star brights, fist fights, just rights
scuffed my heels on your broken walk
shut your mouth when you talk
broke you, stalked you, wounded you down
turn away from rain as we run thru town
just like a fire
black crow eating berries from the briar
sacred high, dancing beauty
eyes black and smarting, ****** up cutie
batman, she-ra, Holy ****** Cow!
Look at me, **** me
I'm a big girl now

Sunrise and tide were getting brights,
He was heading somewhere,
She didn't even know as well,
Accidentally stopping on the shore,
Hoping she didn't mind, and more.
Tipsified by that kind of exhilaration,
Seeming steady to erase their philophobia,
They opened up their hearts full of passion.
Expecting to be forever on the same shell,
To live their shared dreams full of lights,
Letting the waves sing them where to go...

and they fell, with such intensity
among the leaves of laughter
and rolled around in history
crumbling leaves of distance
all gold, and brown
and free

and they stayed there and they rested
comfortable
and sighing
at home, at peace, and rested

the sweet wanting of desire wakes them
the sensuous dew at dawn
brushing aside
the distancing of sleep

and there in the valley
with the leaves all green and gold
only truth is speaking
only truth is told

because no less
would be deserved
and no less would
be received
a soft breeze that tickles the soul
brights the light
and shines
on leaves
all orange and gold.

From the very first time
I felt that flutter in my belly move
I knew the best gift of life
and that gift was you
My son
My gift from God
You are my happy place
Nothing brights up my day more
than when I see your smiling face
I will do my best to teach you
and raise you right
Always say please and thank you
Know what battles to fight
Do not worry about love, son
You will find the right woman
When you have become the right man
Don't take for granted this life
that god has given you
Treat people the way
you want to be treated
and always see things through
We are not promised tomorrow
So live it well and seize the day
and ride the sun the entire way

right between the place of being perfectly okay, stable,
and content and ripping at ever seam, loose at the hinges
you can see that the stitches are coming apart and
the heart doesn't want to beat anymore
I was born here
between the lines of need it I need you and that
wouldn't be good for me and neither are you
the space between total distance and I miss
the word baby so much that I feel achey
I want to yell and I want to scream but
my mouth is shut, I know there are reasons why I'm here
whether it be bad karma or the way the world turns and
if there isn't then **** whatever card I drew out of the deck
once I said
excuse me father for I have sinned
because I didn't know how to pray so I begged for
forgiveness until my ego bled reasons that I needed
to be alone but I'd rather be excused then forgiven
because I'm good at excuses and I'm still waiting
around for the moment where I forgive you

I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE.
WHEN WILL THE SKY STOP FADING
TO SUCH A DARK BLUE THAT I HAVE
TO TURN MY BRIGHTS ON AT 4 PM
WHEN WILL THIS CITY WAKE UP ONE
MORNING WHEN IT'S NOT EXHAUSTED
AND HUNGOVER ON IT'S LACK OF OXYGEN
WHEN WILL THE BIRDS SONG
BECOME OUR WAKE UP CALL
WHEN WILL THE LEASH COME OFF
WHEN WILL THE WORLD SPIN ON IT'S OWN FREE WILL
AND WHEN WILL I  STAND ON MY OWN TWO FEET
I DON'T WANT THIS, I NEVER WANTED THIS
I GOT STUCK INTO BEING SOMEONE
I AM NOT COMFORTABLE WITH
BUT I WANT TO BE
I WANT TO BE SO BAD
IF ONLY YOU KNEW HOW MUCH EFFORT I PUT
IN ASKING THE GRASS TO GROW FOR ME
IT NEVER DOES
IF ONLY YOU FELT HOW MANY TIMES I ASKED
GOD TO TAKE AWAY THE FEELINGS
TAKE AWAY THE KNOWLEDGE
TAKE AWAY WHAT I NOW UNDERSTAND
LEAVE ME BLIND AND IN THE DARK BEFORE
YOU LEAVE ME SOMEONE WHO WILL NOT BE
ACCEPTED BY ANYONE, ESPECIALLY HERSELF
IF ONLY YOU KNEW HOW MANY TIMES I BEGGED
EVERYBODY TO STOP STARING AT ME
I'M IN A ROOM ALONE BUT ALL I CAN FEEL IS EYES
AND I DON'T KNOW HOW TO STOP BEING ME

Revelatory refractions held in the disco ball’s reflection, glancing off the wall.
Dim-lit dreams tilt forward, spilt into a paper cup, bounced backward and sprinkled up.

******* synonyms from the cold, dead pages of the riddle’s mask.
Breaching spatial avenues left for those who understood the task.
Taking hits from a dry-lit flask, leaving windows closed to bask

Clapped the snap back bass kit as it turned Wallace snitch.
The Wire drawn and laid on lawns boundless in the ditch.

Deaf to congruencies of affection, brought about by an adolescent *******.

Blind spot in the centre of view. Rhythmic dancing, oblivious to the pew
Unplugged mixing, interlocked twisting
Pulsing in tune with distorted computation
Dehydrated seizures next to the watering station

Molly Mary caught in the flashing lights, blinded by the car’s brights.
A necklace found, nothing else around.
Body grasped for fun, stuffed, mounted, late night pokes meticulously counted.

Had to hang up the lead foot
for a while, hopefully for good,
after a near crash the other week.
I was pushin the red line
vision smeared, thumbs angry,
voice sharp- wild like prairie wind.
So tonight it's just beer,
nothing that can cause combustion,
I've retired the horn,
and traded my brights
for a moon roof,
cause with her I like cruising-
and all I want is to enjoy the breeze,
drop her off safely, and remember
where I parked the beater.

a piece of you, in a different form.
a piece left over, from the storm.
in my existance,
came all the resistance.
shortly after, the roof caved in.
& with an end, we watched it begin.
daddy left, you stepped up.
an empty glass, you filled the cup.
little did we know, it had a leak.
it's dripping slowly, as we speak.
over bumps we built bridges, rocky roads we held hands.
next to me, by my side...you'd always stand.

then, my hero ****** up.
he spilt the cup.
but he wasn't to blame,
no guiltiness, no shame.
you mopped the floor,
and again..you poured.
the cup freshly filled...
until the next spill.
the crack grew longer,
our bond grew stronger.
but little by little,
it grew too brittle.

his pillows were fluffed.
mine came unstuffed.
his blankets were warm.
mine came torn.
his bed was made.
but, you see i was afraid.
he didn't come home.
my secret is left : unknown.

i hit a blindspot in your rearview mirror.
i tried to hit the wipers so you'd see clearer.
& i tried with all my might.
to get into your sight.
but he was standing there, in the headlights.
& you...flicked on your brights.
there, i stopped, i tumbled...i fell.
no mean to get up, no energy to compell.

so now, i'll try and help you understand,
why i only hold plastic cups in my hand.
i was tired of competing with the one who broke the cup.
and watching, everytime, as you filled it up.
i was tired of running, when he got to walk.
i was tired of staying silent, when he got to talk.
i didn't know you had to fail, in order to win.
i didn't know you had to say goodbye, in order to begin.

racing through the night
fast as light,
toward the great unknown,
the little acorn nut was
reminded of the old adage,
"hang on to your hat"
and so she did.


first stop was to the factory
where well crafted &
educated hands
stroked her smooth grain
& magnificent wood,
so long hidden,
standing so long un-admired.

at last the day came,
she was loaded upon the truck,
so very carefully,
gentle to not mar
nor bump,
as she was moved.

reaching the city,
all the brights lights,
the city trees dotted
the avenues
and huge grand park,
spurning the excited hi's
of this little country
bumpkin.

but she would not dally,
nor carry on, with
the highend bookcases,
chairs, tables and others,
living floor after floor
above the city.
those in the penthouses
holding the works and books,
those rubbing shoulders  
and bums,
with the highfalutin
literary few.
the poets & artists & writers
that deign to look down on
poor you.

every night,
under the light,
she laid there beaming,
her beauty so deep
for all to see,
gleaming.

no diva, nor screeching ingenue,
puffed up egotisical  baffoon,
or shrew,
could bring her down.
for she knew,
that without her,
there could be no show.
for without her,
in all her floor glory,
there simply
would be
no stage!

and the little acorn nut
was glad!

A train sits idle
Driver turns off the headlights
Helps my night vision

Flying past cop car,
Headlights turn on in rear-view,
Turn off, I can breathe

Oncoming driver,
Flash my lights to warn them
Of deer or police

At small town train tracks
Car flashes brights at random,
Left me quite confused

making pancakes tonight.
i know it’s not morning
but it kind of feels right.

i’m making pancakes tonight
do you want some
i know you want some
maybe if i smile i could
get some
you win some
and you lose some
as he always used to say
but the smell of pancakes
eyes melting like butter
you win some
and you lose some
but you can’t help but want some

i’m making pancakes tonight.
come over, it’s like old times
dry eyes
and syrups no way to start a fight.
i’ll cook
you clean
let’s enjoy some pancakes
no kitchen brights just butter
moonlight

cause they’re fluffy
they’re sweet
make you weak in the knees
they hit the spot just right
so come on.

my treat
like i said
i’ll cook
you clean
the griddle, the ladle,
like your eyes shine and gleam

just put it in the sink
time flies by
stomachs filled and riding a high
let it soak
cause we’re eating pancakes tonight

feast your eyes
cause it’s not so attractive to have eyes bigger than your stomach
the memory of breakfast
wanton, happy , an image redacted

you win some
and you lose some
and you can’t help but get some
pancakes? pancakes ?
i know you want some

70 mile per hour, one-way nighttime highway;
cars still **** past.
some with one headlight,
     but most with none,
          but all with horns, horns, horns
blaring, "Bryan! Your brights are blinding me!"

Old 50's culture pitches me his deceitful realtorality from the passenger's seat,
assuring me all is picturesque clean
when,
     in fact,
behind his plaster hair
and plastic smile
and porcelain eyes,
disaster lies- a land mine.

Bombs-BOOM-bombs explode coldly,
leaving none to not witness fulfilled prophecy
and say,
"He's dead.
He's really, really dead."

She say
         drop the bass

And boom,
like that--
       sitting inside the room
harmonica blues breath smokey tunes
of 'ol trickster death burn a hole through the windows
in the shape of a blinking eye--
mischievous snake smile>>
              cat's eye grinning rhythm spinning around
       and around
           the room with
       spray-paint tagging walls
               and doors and inside drawers

black cat scratches records reckoning the two hip-leopards encircling each other-

ready to pounce, ready to bounce,
wild eye nature heartbeats take control,
               mind off, skin folded on the floor--
                          encircling,
dance spirals 'round the fire in our sun-sploding hearts
hand in hand eyes locked claws frock backs, jaws aghast wide fangs smile with lavender delight as ONE LIGHT builds, ONE LIGHT BRIGHTS glowing inside mind's eyes psych-ed-el-lick;
a song in unison to ONE time, one SPACE ONE MIND ONE
        ONE      
      ONE
zero......
FOX FIRE.

I'm hanging out
our ***** laundry
tonight.
Sticks and stones
and broken bones.
Words actually do stain
as my whites mix with colors
and flow through the air,
pegged down to the last insult.
The best stain remover could be love.
But we've got a really
tough collection,
here tonight.
Despite the hot water wash, those
hard-to-get spots are
still there.
And my brain and heart are
being tumble-dried
the heat, the harsh words
washing out my pride.
My outs are in, my ins outside.
The world's a-tumble
As we wear the cloth down
to the last few threads.
As usual, we forgot
a good dose of softener
to make mellow
the words as they jump
from  our tongues
and enter our heads.
I would save my heart
if I could save yours, too
But it's just all spinning too fast,
What on earth
Shall we do?
We'll just have to hang it up as it is.
Let the world see
that there is no perfection
Let those dulled brights
be a kind of reflection.
Perhaps next wash will be better.
We'll know by then
what to use.
Perhaps love will take over,
rekindle the blown-out fuse.
Right now I'm just gonna
curl up in this
basket. Wait for the
stormy cycles to end.
One thing's for sure.
We must clean up our act
Lest the cottons unravel
We must sew up each tear
Before our hearts start to travel
We must take care of the frayed silks and satins
the polyester
before they are beyond any repair.
Tend to those stains,
Straighten each snare.
Take my love
In a many-hued heap
Smelling of sweet soap
Warming your cheek.
A leap of faith
A dash of desire
Let's wash out the pain
Rub away all ire.
Let's have a laundry party,
Tonight.
Naked on the clean bright sheets.
Let the kisses remove
the harshest of stains
Let caresses replace the words
of pain.
The only softener we'll use
Is the creaminess of tongues.
Let the world see
Our love, tonight.
Flowing on the line
for all to perceive.
Darling, we must give just to give
And then we'll
receive.

There is a man walking slowly in me
And he’s going through each room, one by one,
Turning on all the lights while passing by
Stripping the scenes with silver dollar eyes.
With a flick of his chicken bone finger
The kitchen lights violently flare up
To reveal tomato stains, upset
Stomachs, windows and broken table legs.
“Call the medic now!”– In the living room
The lights just found choked up throats and down town
Sticky red wine stains that bleat beat up
Little lambs for little peeps and little
Mistakes that become big scabs and big scams
That swallows the shallowest of waters.
Now the man who certainly loves the light
Is in the bathroom where the peeping brights
Gouge and grind the snuffed and lying young man
Till he is but the pulp and rind and juice.
“Where’s the medic?” Screams the mad running blood
“Where’s the ******* medic?” They cry again.
Now he tricks the porch light into being
Forcing it to leer upon this **** scene
Of a man barely living, most likely
Sleeping, with a garden hose stuffed down his
Gorgon throat seeping– weeping – all at once.
Where is he now? The man who loves the lights?
He’s walking to the impressive bedroom.
The lights wrestle and work the shadows down
Looking for the living, the last one home
Hiding away just in his underwear.
The man of lights opens the closet door
Just takes a look at the creature’s features
When he has finished, when he has remarked
He marks the skin with light, then tears it off.
He takes each muscle each tendon and bone
And throws them, crashing the walls as each falls!
Boom boom! Goes the muscle through the bathroom
Boom boom! Goes the bone through the kitchen
Boom boom! Goes the tendon through the bedroom.
Boom boom! Goes the heart through the rooftop
Boom Boom! Goes the head through the frondoor.

There was once a man that walked within me
And he has left the lights to burn on and on

A picture of Seattle
Will forever linger inside my mind.
Its buildings and brights
its lights
will be ever showing
glowing on my map.
I would see him a few times over
after this very day
all its building
and sneering looks
its crooks.
But once more,
I will miss Seattle
like a withered friendship.
His haunting name'll keep calling
thought I will not be there to answer.

.  *I fell in love with a star, there suspended in the heavens. I fell in love with its light, its brights, its might. I gaze and catch glimpse of the galaxies. In its twinkle my heart sinks.

   I fell in love with a star; here I stare from afar. Can't barely touch it, can't barely feel it, can't barely cradle it. But as sure as the sun would rise at daybreak, I can see it. And each time -- oh, every single time! -- I am mesmerized.

   I fell in love with a star, who from above watches the earth. I know somehow it sees me, somehow it hears me, somehow it knows I exist. Somehow it guides me; to somewhere it leads me, and I cannot resist - to the sublime burning of its glory, I stand dazed.

   And I wish that would suffice my longing for it to once wrap me in its light and quench my craving for an embrace, even if it means burning myself upon seizing a fireball in the horizon, so be it. I wish it would, but it wouldn't.

   I fell in love with a star which I sometimes dread for its beauty that I cannot grasp. I want to feel it between my fingers and lingering on my lips. I'd invite it in my heart and open my chest. But all I can do is gape from afar -- the chastisement for loving a star.

Summer heat hangs in the air
and she’s stretched out along the window-seat
lips parted, sweat-drenched, dreaming of
the coldest touch.
And the sun, he watches over her,
spectator to every twitch,
every flutter across her face,
traitors of the masquerade
she wears for his eyes only.

July heat chokes the air
and she’s clinging to the window-seat,
gasping, heaving, retching out the
remnants of a fever which
boiled her blood and consumed her heart.
Salt-kissed tears have long since
relieved her vision,
yet delirium is a faithful companion
and regret stings like
only a lover can.

August heat steals the air,
and she’s curled up in the corner of the window-seat,
lips parted, sweat-drenched, praying for
the sun to forgive the dusk which
rings her eyes,
this tragic, tarnished complexion.
He coaxes droplets from her lashes,
dusts away the spots from her cheeks,
brights her lungs
so she can breathe again.
Red, raw, relieved, she is awake,
and just a little bit lighter.

Memories of heat linger in the air
and she’s taken apart the window-seat,
to build a hanging garden in its place.
Her flowers dream
of the warmest touch.

And the sun, he watches over them.

Caught out in a deadly blizzard,
We thought the end was near.
Experiencing zero percent visibility
And insurmountable fear,
We pictured our helpless, frozen bodies--
Icicles à la mode--
When rescue vehicles finally found us
Next to a country road.
Having lost all sense of direction--
In total disorientation--
We considered all of our options
With mounting trepidation.
Suddenly two lights appeared
In our rear-view mirror.
What a sigh of relief we breathed
As a truck got nearer!

Try to stay calm. Do not panic.
Land sakes alive!
There she was to save the day:
Granny in her four-wheel drive.
 
Hank and June were expecting a child
During a storm one spring.
To make matters worse, Hank had been injured--
His arm was in a sling.
June said, "Oh, oh. Baby's comin',"
And Hank started to panic.
"The roads are flooded and the bridges are down!"
Cried the desperate mechanic.
"Besides, I couldn't drive the stick
In my current condition
Even if the roads were good.
What's that? An apparition?"
Through the rain-streaked window Hank
Could see some flashing lights.
Granny was there in her trusty truck,
Repeatedly flashing her brights.
 
Try to stay calm. Do not panic.
Land sakes alive!
There she was to save the day:
Granny in her four-wheel drive.
 
There's a legend on the prairie.
You hear it far and wide.
You can believe the story or not.
Whatever. You decide.
As a monster storm approached
A small Midwestern town,
Swirling clouds indicated
A tornado had touched down.
Granny jumped into her truck
Without a shred of concern,
And driving toward the twister past
The point of no return,
She raced into the monster dead on--
Talk about courage and pluck!--
And knocked the twister to smithereens
With hardly a scratch on her truck!
 
Try to stay calm. Do not panic.
Land sakes alive!
There she was to save the day:
Granny in her four-wheel drive.
 
Whenever you find yourself es in a bind
And wonder how you'll survive,
Think about Granny coming to the rescue
In her four-wheel drive.

- by Bob B

Is the pain in your eyes
Why is that ?            
When you smile, your smile not flashing in eyes
Why your smile wrapped me in pain
What are you sad
If ever you meet me
So i want to ask you
Your sorrow
Your pain
Your painful tears
I want ask about them all
You seem to be alone in the Warcraft
You'll dwell alone
I feel your pain myself
My desire is that to remove your suffering
I hold your and want to take off your all distress in my own
I want to winding your tears to my eyelashes
I want to change your sad smile in happiness
I hold your hand i'll visit you the world of the lights and brights
Where you'll forget the darkness of sorrow
I just wanted
You always happy in all circumstances
You to be happy every second, every minute, every time
Doesn't pass any sorrow to touch you
I am praying to God
God bless you every joy of your life
And fill your heart with joy

Isn't it crazy how we are born only to die
How our journey is measured only through years
How our existence is just about taking up space

And so we wait...
We wait for something spectacular to happen
Like a chaos that could lead to peace,
Like a Big Bang or a Supernova
Something like fireworks and brights lights
Like falling stars or falling in love...

And then I met you
You are my "something spectacular"
The fireworks to my existence
A Big Bang that caught me by surprise
Your love is like a supernova in my heart

Staring out that great big window-
with a slight sight of my boring reflection,
staring up into the giant grey clouds engulfing my sunshine-my rays of life,    
Darkness creeps over the land,
submerges everything that you know
The building's turn gloomy,
the power shuts off
In the shadows i sit-the darkness is kind of familiar now.
There wasn't even a suspicion of light.
The murkiness of this ill light room was often friendly to me,
it shared secrets of other peoples night life, and how they spent it-
peeking in through the closet, he tells me-
describing all of my unfortunate neighbors
I'm lucky i befriended the darkness instead of abolishing it with-
left on bathroom lights, and those jack-o-lantern night brights
Each night he comes back
with more smudged and smeared information-
that he shares with me and only me.
When i sleep he watches over me like a guardian demon-
i wake i find no trace of him except under the bed and in that dark closet
So i decided to board-up all the windows to never see the light of day again,
in this dark temple i shall stay,
to never speak of light or even think it
In three weeks time
The darkness overwhelms me, i can hardly see the light
So i sit in my dark room
and conjure up every terrible creature i can think of-
hoping they come to life, and destroy this dark room
The darkness
feeling more and more like an addiction everyday-
Two months now-
all traces of life in me,
in this house are forgotten
The only memory i have
is that of light peering in the darkness
through the cracks in the boards-glowing,
begging to come in and fill me with brilliance,
but the darkness radiates through me-
fending off the insight and intellect.

Am I supposed to be enjoying the weather?
It’s fall
and my biscuits
are burning

Last night, driving with no finish line
I missed the old roads
out in the nowhere
out where I found my direction
infinite turns
but never lost
you see the signs up ahead
with your brights on burnishing
the cigarette in my hand
is my passenger and
I talk ******* with the butts

My biscuits
are burning
and I feel the fire
from our Indian summer
bonfire melting my soles
Arms in flame typing my game

Close friends in small towns you’ve never heard of
Night bringing the other uncomfortable temperature
Dancing in my pants, weak and wanting inside
The young dog watches and waits for love in the touch of my palm
I ignore and talk talk talk about where we’re all from
Late night 2:40AM drunk, the middle man gets angrier every time
That I miss the times most important, instead I sit here and rhyme
I rhyme time with rhyme
Loser

I missed the revolution today
But I’m okay
Slept well
Had my first shower
In
4
days
I bought some used CDs
and took in the overwhelming rays
Of this fake fall reign
I’m hungry
I’m happy
I’m working
and my biscuits
are burning.

My wash gives me options
To click
For warm or cold water.
To click
For darks or brights...whites?

My wash expects me
To know
The soil level or spin cycle.
(low, medium, high?)

Its buttons give me structure.
Its buzzer gives me time.
But as long as my clothes get clean,
I couldn't give a ****.

Darling,
The way your smile brights up the room but you don't notice.

Darling,
Your heart so big that you let anyone in.

Darling,
You make my heart skip beats.

Darling,
You're my whole world, my *everything