aint about me

watching kali sashay with my arm in her jaw locked

the self as a matrix of desires

the day i powdered and snorted my black bones

watch my hands move as i pocket the blues you see nothing

blowing out all the stained glass windows in all the temples simultaneously

when i die play my bones like a balafon arpeggio

writing words is like throwing stones at the sun

police precincts up in flames like sage