Parti-colored tipis

shields devils heads are the lining at the base of a column
green sunset, rising black
we are embedded in the placenta or tongue
a house of wooden figures with rubber bands for knees
the one that used to run, heaped in a corner
a band of light, orbiting pure mercury
is the hand railing/ chair bumper
in a glum nursing scream home
you are no longer reasonable no matter the reason
let me go, I'll tell them you're keeping me
against your will, I know, they all say that.
As the gut churns, a heaving green turfscape
in a mist, slippry, odorous, and tipis. Calico
tipis with tip flags, lancers.



Ayre Fromme-Diaz

Tipis
Tipis at night with
Spotlights shining down on them by
Tipis hovering overhead:
Tipis shining lights on tipis



by Flaco Huevon

Black men's names bleeding into my white skin

I have to admit I have trouble making them out now
Not that I've forgotten but the ink has spread, what
happens to an old tattoo by a drunken spaniard at the
seaside, what's been repaired and pumped and let
slide; even keratoses or folliculitis comes up black

These guys among others were with me in parallel
Encountering intimately the secrets of genetic disparity
and delight, the fight, tho what we shared was losing
Losing lots of losses in a row that inspired meta-loss:
that's when men then seek the young not the departing



Love, Hoolie

More man tips

chinstraptail

chintie

gagtail

tailhelmet_side

Beavers had more agency

When we were in the pen, we and everyone who was born there stopped noticing getting shat upon over and over. And our nobler substances spilled on top of that. It didn't matter. Managing contact with the excretions of others is perhaps the core experience of all life forms. We became degraded ping-pong balls lolling atop a sticky heap of ego destruction. Our selves were the empty spheres of which we were aware, within which anything could be imagined and nothing could be directly experienced or executed except the wading in shit blood tears and cum part. There would be no special result of our lives individually any more than one pale leaf riding on a stream could create a natural dam big enough to stem the flow. Indeed, beavers had more agency.



Love, Peg

God damn the glamour

God damn the glamour
the glamour is gone

dirt owl in its hole
wing wrap of cardinal

we smear this glam all over
unseen it does not glitter

pardon our homosexual
remarks resting in hip

but this is not your trip
just a silly runway stroll

is what i'd say back in
the storied golden dome

but they came for the
mystery, then peed on it



Dr. Donna Thong
"Once a go-go, always a go-go."

Dear Landlord:

though you're younger than me, i wanted
you to step in and be the dad, pet your lad

the unexpected (why?) betrayal: stood by
your 2nd lady, in her insane blood-splendor

thanks for at least the patronizing tone and
chivalrous intent; alas i love you more now:

a manly man who will throw himself atop
a flowering hysteria to save the unworthy

yet i still am host to your dead wife's ghost,
letting, shitting in, your matrimonial bower

while the interloper sips ambrosia in your
step-up-suburb bed, this floor's your gravity.

why peels the rose trellis arch on the porch,
bows of satin testament still dryly clinging?

hetpower scarecrow? Tribal-alpine syndicate
crime reference? You don't see fit to burn it.

And why insist so strenuously the ways in
which i'm subject to your unyielding entry?




Jan Jansdaad
"I'm the single Jan."

My Feelin'

Look at me, my posse,
victorian gauze matron
back of hand to brow
makes it like real
swoon on divan
this is how I'd
feel if I were
in this moment; it's
an acting method:
to live out every
agonist, conflagration
in graceful riposte,
a state that's closer to
what really matters
across our nation, and
in my better breast like
a chicken pecking
to get out.



La Chama
"Ain't nobody know my feelin'."

I Want to Get My Period

It's not about the silly ideology; they're auctioning off our property.
Are you wondering whether couples necking on a porch is an orgy?
That's a good measure of who's got your tissue decisioning remote.
I hear a roaring that could be patriotic, jarring, or an air conditioner.
You try and tell them: what if you wake up one day and ask how it
happened, and that will be a moot question; which corporation will
come and save you then, which religion? We must march to reason.

They make posters of themselves with your names on them
He simply nods to the highest bidder
Every day is an insult
You are dismantling the nirvanic system

Are they any different from common thieves?
Remember to change your registration when you move.
Everyone is gagging on their daylight ganking.

Mothers of Mexican-American babies make an easily identifiable scapegoat.
Only not because of the way they drive.
Their happiness compared to our misery while sharing the same dimension feels repugnant.
Have a day off and piss off someone who's rich for a change.
Ever imagined you could fly above it all?
Remarkable how insignificant you would become.

Fuckers are people who want a medal for the results of having fucked with no protection.
Unlike HIV brothers, who brag way less.
Cocks and balls are earnest, but they wouldn't run for president.
Kicking a man's groin over and over is like the daily planet.
Everyone hyperbolizes always.
Rest assured next we meet we'll have burned and replaced every molecule.
So fresh in, fresh out; may the goddess finally release her mercy of blood.



By Pussy Riot
(Donna)

Punch line

Yes mom well great.
Yes I know it was just a phase.
But remember I was going through a phase then too.
It was
It was called my formative years.



Frag
Chama-side convo Mkidza Mlaf (mother)