immigration policy: a polite overture to injustice

Part I

the flesh of absence--
a watery color ghosted and framed
by windows--sheer curtains nuzzle breeze

empty throne, the sheets cool
and growing sallow the room is left alone

Part II

immigrant connection
the embassy totes white glory
plush power

discord--interview with a stranger
a most intimate investigation
looking for fear, for the eyes to look up and to the right
stamped down denial

stranded in a strange land called home

Part III
(a more aggressive approach)

serenade to separateness
REpresent
no return date
no return ticket
invalid license to BE
to say love
is determined by dot gov---
absurd ritual
lies are told as factual
immigrate this mother fuckers:
keeping the country safe
homeland security
priority: Debase
mistrust
policy thrust
unequaled affront to the nature
the very nature
of human rights
dieing endlessly by oversight
spectrum of delay--family values gone astray
hypocrisy as bright as the suns rays
an ocean dividing--ameriCat keeping talent at bay
all our bets riding on the HLS office
preserving our freedoms? fuck it! till it's right gonna dog it
HA
seizing the innocent--victim to lack of common sense
man on a plane
man with a gun
hold it up high
bang bang dang
look at those chains---a painful shame

Part IV
(a slight return to square one)

reverberate
talk of concept and ruination
the country swaggers--a drunk giant
with fatty baby legs groaning
or is it boasting?
provision for self
it forgets the rest who put it high up
on an absolute shelf
glory and absence
affair with paper trails
secured perimeters
meet me in the back room
and we'll talk smuggle
we'll talk struggle
and hatch insanity
much more tame
than policy
fear
the worlds best
misplaced
fallacy

rural picture of winter(interaction

resist

the knife-point search for words--intact but deserted--
reticent self--outward expression defined by reserved contact
minimal self inclined to withdraw--decapitate possibility with pained movements

we are cold snow dusted roads, gravel dirt ditches frozen by abandoned nature

it is our swollen sense of importance that keeps us bold (behind closed doors)

---------------------land laid out bare and touched by sadness------frozen touch
-------------------and poor memory

poor memory serving another time--

her figure looked liked miles and left a still impression
silhouetted against edge and mood

touch of gray
calloused hands
abandoned fingers with silver rings

furious possible connect
shift shape and leave this space for something quiet
in the solitude of forgetting--make believe busy--stacking cups
like it means something
besides indulgence and escape

the frozen house
on the hill
keeping vigil
over dusted figures--
shaded silhouettes against the snow

(a picture painted the attic

the warm air rising
the curved shape of expression leaning heavily
upon the chipped frostbitten window pane
looking through breath
down on roads
and frozen grounds
the clarity of distance kept keen for moments
left behind for a grand hope of understanding---
of sharing

quiet settled upon the land
proclaiming the business of sadness(
on every eyelid is of importance and should be listened to

that no distance can separate one from what is seen
no even closed sleep nor drunken love
not even soft embraces under the guise of trust

and through the window came a cry
distant and carried by north winds
the black m of flight
the crow looking for companion

the winter looking for a lover
her cold nature an affront to all but chiseled stone---
monument to self

the ending eluding to clarity
the death of spectacle,
of showmanship

the curtain closed, the attic window shut--
under the sheets, the house sits quiet
a borrowed breath away from
the couch and the grave
and settles silence under the skin

dawning of day--bridge me the sequel
and say nothing of memory--
hard stones looking back
into foreign affairs--where's the knife point?!
searching through the air
words tumble blood to bare
the sequence fumbles through like this:
noThing to bother the bitter left outside
the door opened looking for
bright colored evening song and boy lines drawn in the sky
silhouette my song and feel it like pride
in the lungs breathing deep the night and the day the dawn until
park stories bring us back to earth and we feel like light on the skin

no turn
rounding the corner of earth or growing
up and out
became present
and sudden
a godless warning
caught
on the stage, flood lights, dragged from the porch and her death--
child--
is great--yet still means noThing next to universe
rocked by the poor pitter-patter of left-behind-future

bleak blank and drunk on the street
unless
some pick-me-up shoulder shrug can bring her out
out of time and shell
noon day spells, sun on the skin makes one think again
of rosters--foster the cost of living
shown blatant and bare--the face (off) laughing
sagging is the sense of movement

where is here and how did it come to be?
i normally see these things
well in advance
instead looking to the radio gods to send a sign
what way to leave this benign existence

looking for fever--progressive strife
sound by life
it is breath and lips and sweat
concrete scores rocked by a dancing floor

deliver the couch with great austerity
bring to my mind
accept the rest as unavoidable
and affordable death
alternative to the rest (consumption and burning)
hypocrisy learning

single out the lined figured in the corner
a lone
glacier serving solitude and wrecking the scape
keeping noThing not even herself safe

the great voice of reason
drowning in escalating treason
elephant in the room
bone white ebony sin
singing about irony

her majesty
blond hair twirling round

slender finger
wrapping
warring against dignity

great beyond measured
in time hearing how seconds are formed
missed communication
step back into the pink tingling night to know children
and their madness
venerable world
salvation is chance
and memory is everything

keep me company twilight
sinister night
drunken escapade
into strife--strangers hold secrets
held in posture
pinnacle alter--bow down

blow me westward
singing about silk and secrets

shove into
insight (provided----)
the text bold slash sans serif
unequivocal truthbetold
i never loved you
only idea
of blue
silver
red streaked moment
no words of any kind
in any order
could save this
no handmade trinkets
nor memory
could save it
not even a wrecked conversation
about 'what ifs'
could make the front page

only idea
shattered against
self
will
and hard cold stone memory
is left to pick up the shame of salt
and letters

effusive beginning
silence in the absence -- this isolation keen and well kept
weep--emotional stint
felt like a whip to the back(hand) of dis[soul]ution--

gray night gray matter gray sight
follows
the connection strong
vibrant and empty
the physical prowess removed
grown stronger the absence
the hum of dark house ringing through the ears
listening with ears to the ground
to the door
the floor giving a signal of
coming plight
urgency
--speak about peace
peach and fur electric eclectic touch
from everywhere a beginning a forgetting
sucking in the brave air trying to be braver still
and poetry is at standstill
human bondage
the torture of observation
knowing human disadvantage
isn't found in stillness
but movement and thought
thinking that we are whole
centered and kind gentle sensical beings--
reality the bitch next door
divided our efforts, thoughts askew
separate living and breathing only self
others an illusion
caring too much
too much the sins--right wrong
dialogical process
conversation with no one but
self--diminished
damned
and reaching every reaching
for salvation
living across the corridor
and weeping
about howthingsusedtobe
and weeping
about howthingswere
and weeping
about nothinginparticular
until
s t o p
sudden shrinking self
the world so big so big so big big big
tiny little self shrinking
in the night
under stars and magnolia trees next to giant city blocks and rivers
muddy rivers were death and carriage both reside

polyester suited man on the corner
preaching his sign
saying god is a badass
and we're fucked
with his loud speaker
and small eyes
praying for eternal damnation

while pedestrians walk
walk like death is something known but left
alone
under the magnolia trees by the cobbled brick street
the street light singing shinning through the water the rain
the best part of life spent in front of a stop light
waiting
thinking that some missing piece is about to jump out
SURPRISE
with an answer
to solitude in a crowded bar
judgement
snowy white judgement
soot
the black soot of conclusion
illusion
sophisticated inclination
that something
is not
quite
right
signpost--the signal to leave-takings

describe affluent subtilize
back away
humble
discreet notion
hip joint and shake

mark the skin with ink
and play like love
isn't dark clouds hanging over
concrete ledge--city brow
and sinister
street-
light

with all the courage
brave beginnings--
pressed hard between repetition--
is hard (graves gone) to come by
wave
good byes
while looking
like rolling plains (grass land empty)
heaving thought across
heavy
unmarked
road