4:42
double vision .. watercolor pain draft 5 - 8:9:21, 12.12 AM

Ouroborous

COHORT 6

This is not a slam poem that is not to say

My stanzas slumber or stumble half-drunk

Into the brickstone or the bookstore

I am no ivory tower

I am not the edge of glass

Yet sharpen silver tongue to knifepoint 


My greatest legend is unwinding book spines 

Bulldozing merriam webster unabridged

 dictionaries i don’t know whether to 

Fashion mortar or mask 


Let me return as comet dust let my bones be ground

So fine the night clubbers and necromancers 

Get high off this powder let particles crystallize 

In cigarette ash unlit or perhaps the artifact

Of too many good times my grandfather

Loved them too and rechristened his


Mistress leukemia how would he react if he

Knew his granddaughter struck the match

 To see if her skin would molt and emerge

Phoenix whether warble or war cry 

A symphony begins with a single note


My legend is 40 year old smoker hacking

My legend is fighting tooth and bone i will stretch Out the same hand

That lights the menorah that fumbles with the match 


That paper cuts and buries the living with a eulogy

Wrenched between my teeth but i’d rather bruise

My forehead than bleed from clamping my tongue shut

But i don’t want to be remembered as a martyr

Like my mother and her mother and  her mother


My legend is of sunbeams who took suitors

They braided roses into tourniquets the reason 

They never lacked power they were just waiting for an amplifier


My legend is gutturals and glottals

I used to get paper cuts every time i performed

Because i thought my tongue was made of marble

Like the rust would spare the artists


 My legend neither particle nor wave

Transcends the tenor of a tired truth

I ebb and flow but the current can’t set

The precedent for the prophet who

picked apart picket-fence scripture


Silence isn’t violence it’s a death sentence

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