Four

 

THE SUN RAISES ITSELF

 

The sun raises itself-

                        a dull knife

            from the bruised parsley

of urban parks

            and walkways.

 

Higher into its own incandescence

            back to the wall

            with cumulonimbus

            coming toward its

            handle and edge.

 

Knowing sugar/salt

                        necessity

            will soon spill

                        as the thermostat

                        is lowered

                                    and lowered

 

And more like-minded spices

            crowd,

                        peppercorns

                                                finely ground,

            clove,

                        vanilla bean

 

Then the moon makes entrance

            as defunct

            heating lamp

 

Letting  streets congeal

                                       beneath its watch

And no voice to call for a pick-up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And Be

 

seek and be otherwise occupied, too busy for both devil and god, on and onward. no time to turn back, behind, where only salt and cinders remain as steam, gas, oil, gears, pistons pound in electric horizons, neon stars spelling out omens in the shadow of giants dead on the strip, the main drag where myths are made, live and forgotten to all but the shamans, bards, and oldest of old folk who knew firsthand how little glory there were in those gold and silver days.

 

spend and share alike. too generous to hate. too generous to envy. too this to be that. too to to be.

 

all the one way streets towards some to – some at. no other way streets. two ways where this binary is not that binary but however white one grey is some second chance is given to black.

 

this was proud of that restless forgetfulness as eternity tried to grasp an understanding of ‘wait.’

 

pain and feelings otherwise occupied. too consumed for sin or enlightenment. in and inward. novelty of the past found again in the shortage of youth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Carrying Walls

 

in         -          future (pre)tense

            drifting                        knowing how

                                    to get

                        dirt from nails

not from work,

            from hanging

                        –cliff– a prop

for so-called

            adversity

* * *

                        past                 intense

                                        wrote

checkerboard               campaigns

 

            symbols vs interpretation

                        signs

                        to follow

                        -

                        play victor

* * *

today ever dubious

            is fallen

                        satellite

questioning ever having lived

                        in

            a          world

            beyond the sky

too far for naked lens

* * *

never a moment of reflection

                        - sight

                                    /

                                     shine -

given    for       given

                        granted

* * *

desolate chimneys scarred by December’s

            dreams

            tearing through

            January, February,

                        March

 

cool creosote collected

            April, May

            not thinking

                        ever of

what November might like

* * *

            June, July’s

                        saddest lines

           

            August, September

                        eaten alive

 

with pretense finally becoming

            present

                        accounted for

* * *

tired of being

* * *

if immensity could melt off

render all back

to life before

make-believe

 

when

campaign was broken

into portions

and to judge

equality

of parts

(w)as criminal

 

            to torque tongue

                        to say

                                    so = did/done =

            more so

* * *

what is/was

            (n)ever

            slid(es)

                        film

                        over light

            flickers haze

of sweaty tomorrows

before eyes –

                        relieves stress

preoccupied with carrying walls

                        for (en)closure

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rifacimento

“Fables have a very tough skin.

They are the daughters of the invisible.”

(Jean Cocteau)

attempted nomadic

. shame fog betrays search

 

. landslide

, rebel against lands

            hooked to edge

 

. give fall to protagonists

            change center

 

, radius, diameter

and      circumference

            of hunting grounds

 

.

 

two home tease

 

. before each time

            call it

            a close call

            while dragging down

            erect posturing

                                    silent

            stone in depths

                                    of desire

 

. then it doesn’t

            - becomes don’t-

 

cleans up

            scrubs

for approval

 

.

probability calculated

illusion’s bar set

 

. constellations’ failed logic

fell apart

from machine

 

.

 

foreign tongues were swallowed

            washed down

            with various cup

                        sizes

            in padded bras

 

and followed by

            cage bars – eager for

something steel, something

            sweet to go with

            underwire picking

            Arabic and Hebrew

                        from teeth

 

. never is a verb

. moving is on

            not over

. played that way in head

            while eyes

            absorb high sky

            , get lost in sun

. inferno of system’s center

makes potential for paradise,

purgatory, remedy for

pretending

                        compared

. true came to dreams.

            died there

            uncared for golden

            in bitter fantasy

. miscarried

! skin called snake

            asked how to

            begin again

, accepted all offers, apologies, jokes

then leapt into

                        brush and bramble

through grass

                        where blood was sweat

turned red by fear of flames

fanned in hesitancy’s hyperventilation

 

. blistered soul

            exploded over pyre

 

funeral carried on

            in another tradition

 

, temptation’s blessing was dark

            on its blazed path

carved in shaky hands

            nettled

            and fragile

. more .

. full lips stole space from voice

            from slogan

            and anthem

 

. gifts were cursed in hope

            marked as worn

            down by millennia

            of inheritance

 

. sheen of miracles

            were marred

            in patina

            of desperation

 

. where the white buffalo

            and white hart went

            is a secret

            of budding grove

without place named

 

. shroud made of baby teeth

was all that stood between

milk, honey and kryptonite

            streets

 

. easier now for youth restored

shifts shape

            prison

                        of deterioration

            ignored

                        in exercise

 

habits of weight taken off to where burden was law

etched in uterine walls

. fly. release. fix. improv(is)e.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Contributor

Kenyatta Jean-Paul Garcia

Kenyatta Jean-Paul Garcia is the author of This Sentimental Education, ROBOT and Yawning on the Sands. Kenyatta was raised in Brooklyn and currently resides in Albany, NY. 

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