Strapped Up

It’s come to this COVID

the beach or bust (your hold on us)

Liberty civil or not

sick of your choke hold, we’re

strapping up, bracing

for the best, expecting

the worst. Get over

(yourself) Sit your ass

down.

Raging Riffs

James Panera’s review of the exhibition entitled “Riffs and Relations: African American Artists and the European Modernist Tradition” at the Phillips Collection is an interesting read if you like intellectual musings and “disses” by arm chair critics on derivative (blk) art – see comments. Sad to read (but not too surprised) that MAGA land and the white aggrieved can’t take a “high fa-lutt-en” pun. https://www.wsj.com/articles/riffs-and-relations-african-american-artists-and-the-european-modernist-tradition-review-intriguing-history-hits-a-sour-note-11584391554?shareToken=st2194824728e14eb5b2b7bbab11259a1c

Shred

I hold anger

in hand

paper shreds

bits of this & that

get the vacuum

suck then

toss calamity

like tissues & phlegm

Awake

Morshawn dreamed

himself awake

flowers in porcelain

toilets & tubs clogged

fair warning

something was happening

Sitting Duck

float or kick

swim or sit

virus has

me stuck

Flip Turn

If it weren’t for pop-ups, run-away-ascents, I’d be diving instead of speculating fictive rhyme schemes (abababcc).

Surfacing

I’m re-entering Surfacing. Free diving – the extreme sport. Epic poem as metaphor. Really ready to reenter where it began. Flicking away the pretend – afraid to lose consciousness during this ascent. Rhyme scheme ottva rima (abababcc).

Lake shake (down)

Daily shelter-in place break. Home-made mask on my face. A brother approaches from the corner. “Excuse me. I was just wunder-run. How can you do that?” I stooped down to pick up Wally’s poop.

Shit is shit & I know bull when I hear it.

“I’m no bum, but I was wunder-run…See, I ran out of gas down the street.”

“Sorry man, I ain’t got no cash.”

So he started conver-sating some more about compostable poop bags & wunder-run about the benefits & risks of doggie fertilizer.

Two lives. Too lies.

Cracked

My hands are cracking from all this hand washing. Sensitive skin. We’ve been warned. Avoid (novel corona) entry points. Cool water is better. Hot doesn’t kill shit. Aquaphor plugs the cracks. Lanolin & petroleum. Big oil be damned! (divest) Skin is jacked if I resist.

Card Throw

I was hoping for the Ace.

Hold on for the hold out.

It be-es that way sometimes.