Monday, January 18, 2010

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
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
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
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)

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
the worlds best

Thursday, January 7, 2010

rural picture of winter(interaction


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