Sometimes unpleasant. Sometimes very pleasant. Always compelling.

poem resurrected from the bottom of a heap. 

“His Pomp has become my Circumstance”

Get ready. 
No hustle 
no edit no lie 
pluck maybe
no hustle
—from knife—
i be cry.

Nope you still don’t get it
i BE cry.

But I back 
bread & butter 
be knowing 
be cry 
I can rise
out of clay 

an arrow 
in thigh

unaware of a standoff
soaking shields and- 

…what you didn’t know was 
I ain’t need no ride. 

And what made I do that when 

daffodils perk the 

coffee I slurp easy 

does it and one day at a time 

yet ooch why a standoff
girl just looking in stars 

—but I can take it—

gladly take it

all night 
take it

in kind.



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