a gratified male
babe, i’ve got to continue on, i’d hate to not to,
on this path,
of this place
(small things sometimes mean something big)
i hate to bug u this early, this morning
i’d hate to do this alone.
- a
histories
a
love of her life,
‘i
kiss and
he back’
‘before:
i’d
kiss and
she’d act,
as if
we
i’ve not’
‘i’d kiss if he’d
like’
‘she’s
great
when
alone’
‘i’m some one’
they met
on a couch
in her house
there: music on,
good
swoon music,
upstairs, her music’s off,
her own music,
she’d run up this once
up her stairs,
up there,
and had him twice
next to her, as much as
she’d like,
for once,
she closed her, brown, eyes
once he began to
leave
her there,
alone.
all the while sleeping
dreaming
not missing
smiling,
the party, seemingly hearty, full of, friends of hers,
down her stairs.
down her stairs was a
fun one,
some there would provide for this poem.
and he?
walks
home / home.
- a
Stories
- a
In a blue room with white cream walls, where not one element of the room happens to be baby blue, a man is sitting on a table near a window, to his right. He has yet to utter, not even say a word. He is drinking coffee. In a mug. He looks outside to, or through, the windows, at trees, flowers and a road, with cars, as he sits, and sometimes sips. From his white cup.
The end of our observing, soon before his own end.
mad / folly, engaged
since when is a
beautiful woman
a beautiful face
since
then
a beautiful woman
of a specific race
since before
american men
as if race exists
does it exist?
don’t I feel the
things she’s lived before
she lives
how she exists,
the choices she’s made, once she’s
around me enough ..
isn’t that it?
I guess,
but
these damn conventions mean the death of one’s self, being enslaved.
- a
u?
I’ve
deep down, inside of the bowels of me
where I’m
not afraid of a me
where I’m content with me,
where I’m happy with me
where there’s a
need for an us
there’s a certain consciousness made for a person’s love for
a certain love
where I’ve been made conscious of me, deep down / I
wrote us a poem
or is it a song?
u’d find nice if u read aloud / it’s that the
problem is it’s not
coming up, enough to speak of,
somewhat.
despite it I’m proud of me.
both
ur me an mine.
my me.
I’m me.
- a
me?
eventually,
me,
I’ve
chosen to live inside of these lines, of this
place,
this square box of a small place / inside of lines
to live inside of it
to make me a comfortable enough home on it
to build a house inside of these strict lines
to hold no slaves inside of this small place
this
politically
romantic, purposed, place
a
romantic
enough
small
place,
/ space
as me
I’ve
eventually
chosen to.
it feels nice,
alone or not.
- a
a ?’s response
I’ve
loved her
he was: he,
him.
i sensed her
he’s seen me ..
i was numb to
as i was ..
something.
before.
i met her
at school.
his me.
- a
a very insignificant corner
from a
significant
growlinn’
male / voice.
it’s the felt complexity of a lovin soul!
she’s .. jus’,
when ur just, wrapped up in pre-co-lum-bian / nkrum-ahn / white chest sheets an engraved on gold stuff!, and u
have
got urself a big ‘self?’ question u’ve held for so long
for so so, so long! and she’s the
answer u been
waiting to hear, for so so so long!, from .. / so, u jus’
hope.
- a
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