I laid out a table for to die upon
Yĕhovah overturned my table
and outdid the totality of death.

Things pass. They d-
falling asleep maybe on green yards gazing
at greener yards, no I’m sure they must, they do
and the tub drains straight to the fountain of youth
ever unstuffed-up, it will keep us scrabbling for
pools accumulating, but pouting toward
rusty drain pipes
of time-ago; their call and their lure

still keeps us scrabbling, believing
youth past is not completely passed
just slipped through some wire gate; for to us
minimal wire gates, well, they are fences
white and picket, knee high and we
we will step right over someday- away
someday away from ideal in
in- into real. This is how thing pass they
stay asleep then Present wakes them up to run
and hop, jump, and skip over Ideal’s fences into
which one we..
whichever one we admit to perceive
the other side to be…

Why did you paint your walls
why tonight could you not stand the beige-
the cream crept in and licked up your sense.
Did you try to get drunk and stare it down
because it owed you the service
of starring back. Did you yell
at the walls did you yell-
because they ought to shut up
and listen for once.

So you paint them, with life they
never knew. Were they
jealous of your mind so you
gave it to
them finally were you
just alive and
just tired a
nd ready tonight to paint
more than
———-all the other nights
———-that we both knew someday we will all
———-need to paint
———-some time. some place. on some wall?

R.I.P. ‎Jonathan Jabari

I want to drown

Don’t freak out
It’s just water.

And it’s just
DeathEveryone does it.. some time or another

I only use words be(so so many words!)
cause words
are all I know
and I don’t even know them
so well you can tell

so imagine how little I know Eve
rything else (?)

is to be lenders of thread
to the tapestry of one another

Love is the story we tell when we’ve run out of ink.

He blessed me with it. gave it. called me up a hill with it
an-
–kill it… the very thing

I raised my ax

for four months
but…

tonight I slay the one that I love…

You want to meet
I choose the time
we speak for 6
hours 3 we are analysts
3 we are in love
nightfall enters you in
to the hospital because
your aunt abuses the emergency care facilities
or maybe because that wound gets worse
and what we suspect as surface
—-is getting into your blood
I pray believing He
take it away, He does not
seal up the wounds today
but instead I, myself am coming to you
that my finest suit might sit beside you
I stop on the way for flowers
but realize inside
peddles seem petty to token my intent
but your mother sends roses
and for whatever reason after
in the elevator we kiss
at the door and in the car
we kiss you leave
a rose on my dashboard.

The sun licked up what little life it had left
and, as your texting made more clear,
those nights were the rose
both dead and dying
before they got to me.

I put myself between
wrath and mercy, pleading to be
swallow up in each.
I pray to Whom
all fiery dwells and all mercy
pours still; as if from His veins
out His open flesh marred
by ill intending men who
praying for justice, condemn their names…

But who could know it when the end punctures the thin skin yoke of sky
and the sun like blood weeps like a Man in gardens pleading for who may bare His cup…

they are fools
and I am like them with intent
to be saved and leave unsaved
the fools with intent to be free
and stay in chains
simultaneously.