there was something floating above him that tried to present itselfherself as he laid in his hot ritual bath which he announced unashamedly 

speaking of it raised eyebrows

he was white 

what rituals did white men have

                          white men

not priests or uttered prayers                                                                                            

what rituals

his brethren the best he could assesshad assessed hadnt rituals                                                      

as sparkly white as they were they had no need of rituals  nothing pejorative could be staked on them 

 
and they wanted to keep it that way

                             by force if they must(?)

zero tolerance and broken windows

by any while way or convention they deemed or discerned and held onto for dear life

their niggling fear was payback blowback  of retribution scrawled in colourful graffiti with a big R

the white fear calculated in their imaginations-squared  of being on the other end of a fire hose nightstick provoking violence against them by raising-their-hands-to-protect-their-heads or being unarmed and on the other end of several handguns or authority or beat-nearly-senseless and on their knees staring up dully at a dangling rope and noose thrown over a bare tree limb Voices and in their nostrils the hideous smell of tar coal oil cheap whisky and a burning torch

how they were inspired by those horrid images

                                      (OHSHIT  he forgot the dogs he forgot the dogstheir snapping bone-crushing jaws the hot slobbered spit lashed and clinging to their pant legs and shirt sleeves forgot they were yanked off their feet to the ground under obsessed shepherds at the bidding of a hobbled cop quick with their Sic commands service revolvers and scattering kibble as reward

How did he forget that)

                                                   he-she came in through the bathroom window

and laid suspended directed over him with careful eyes

a godgoddess pre-op trans juicedlong-time with hormones and augmented hanging a meter and a half over him as he laid in the lavender-tinctured Epsom-salted hot bathtub healing mesmerised hallucinating informed his whiteness wasnt fixed it was darker and they were unable to bleach it out because he didnt buy-in didnt swallow the pap of their propaganda or the allure the pedagogy sold in suburban schoolyards or on their adjacent corners under leafy shade trees on clipped green lawns

it was keen to realise he was being watched over as he recovered

he detested his diminished state his puny reflection his weight down

it was hard to look at himself in a mirror                                                                                                  

but looking he saw his eyes were vital     

                              he thought embers for tribal firekeepers
Tribal 

white men didnt think that way

didnt think forward seven generations in their Im-gonna-get-mine(and yours) reality

Old   White   Men

he couldnt say he was going to miss them 

                                 they werent missing him now

 

1035, Sunday, 21  8. 16

1249,  Monday,  22  8. 16

lunar scarface

                    his tricky eyes

not that he was . . .  complaining

they threw him more curves than Satchel Paige ever did

he saw Paige throw three innings during an exhibition game at Wrigley Field

faced nine batters

Kd four who went fishing after his curveball

at least his curves allowed him to repent

look again

and see what it was he screwed up

surface

       not scarface

but even then corrected he remained fond of his eyes tricks

they were after all just another way of seeing things and he was fond of their new perspectives the curves when they occurred

however they couldnt all be tricks of his eyes

his temperament must have fed others or else he wouldnt be susceptible to his dyslexia

how many happy accidents happened in Mankindes existence that SUDDENLY and unexpectedly were incalculably valuable  the humanoid beast that first picked up a broken tree limb and clubbed its attacker and that shard a brilliant accident fleeing across searing the gulf of collective unconsciousness and stuck in every worthwhile beasts brain on every farflung escaped clod  every continent

every gnarly club  refined to a spear  the long bow and arrow  a sling 

every survival incurred

then Thoughtfulness latently provoked 

unfortunately outstepped by violence

scarred face

See the barren moon?

1459,  Twosday,  23  8. 16

1507,  Day-between-Two-Ts,  24  8. 16

(a redux)

there was a barcode

stuck to the end of his cock

it wasnt a Fresh-By  a Birth or Expiration date

it was # 0667528744757

                       $5.00

$5.00

shameful

if someone had the keen imagination to affix a tacky sticker to the head of his cock 
Thats it  Five bucks

Hell  hed kick down five bucks just to learn how the tagger managed the sleight-of-hand

 

he was feeling like a bit of a scientific experiment like he might have been lifted up during the night in his sleep
or in an induced sleep and explored by Aliens 

or impressive Churchgoers

  

there was no way to tell 



                                             he was a heavy sleeper and was intoxicated with dreams
filled with enormous red yellow and black fires burning in every direction he looked fires undiminished burning in full throat and fury their fuels impossibly not rendered  not the sailboats at sea or tied to a quay  not the automobiles sprawled on crying and sputtering tarmac stuck fast by black-taffy tires afire  not the shimmering walls of trees or singular plumes throwing off swarms of fireflies ash and sodden pitchblack smoke  not the wood buildings shaking like epileptics tipping their tinroofs like bright shining fedoras or mad locomotives and traincars snaking on ochre rails  and the fires themselves their magnificent whirling sheen painting and marbling the faces and bodies of onlookers as if their skins were made of paraffin and they marveling as intently as he

he woke and pulled on his dirty buttonfly jeans to work the fruit trees in the yard  turned the copious compost  watered and tendered the young plants to assure their best starts to flourish

he cleaned and refilled the halfdozen hummingbird feeders

then stomping his work boots to shed soil slapping the dirt from his knees and thighs and seat he and she jumped into the truck and drove over to the Mercantile for groceries  the butchers for fresh meat

they stopped for a coffee and talked over the stained white ironstone mugs

somewhere in there or prior he was tagged

he wasnt one to pay attention to discomfort or pain  both lubricated his sense or presence

being  in a word  alive

small ticks between the GONGs of waking and falling asleep

spice for his food  a clean glass jar for his drink

tagged

somewhere in there

he hadnt a clue 

she hadnt a clue

but she laughed something fierce and said she was sorry when she recognized the consternation in his face

then laughed again and again something fierce

she even laughed when they went to bed as he nuzzled the back of her neck wondering over her shoulder across her dimpled cheek if he remembered to wear protection

--   Yah love  Five bucks worth

1557,  Day-Between-Two-Ts,  18  6. 14

1423,  Sunday,  22  6. 14