ensconce me

(re)cognition(s)

i thought all over you, i am sorry, i mean no harm, all my memories playin across your body and face like runny egg-white shadows and you don’t know what to do, so politely ensconced listenin to me go on and on about stuff we forgot purposefully long ago — OH — the damage i might do on accident, for me you would do anything, for you i would do anything, making something of you you are not, here with our cutoff gloves playing fingertipsies, blind to the sign language we are groping — THE — cognition is not fully lubricated, does not cover the entire street and buildings and sky and short bursts of nature in the medians, i guess in this ragtag mind i got, driftin here, pausing over there — BY — the cracks in the roads whereby loiters and got no business to be, trance music, clubs, dancing, you and me, why can i not hold up on our benevolency — PLEASE — i mean no recognitions, move along little thoughts, fly away, move along, there are interior spaces up in northern provinces, Canada and the like, which need fulfilling — SPACES — we will bundle ourselves up and head out into icy quiet not-threatening ones,  warmth of coffee and small talk, overtures of what we may be if we simply let ourselves trudge forward and go
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from desperation circle to unique and united on a sunday morning

We are robin eggs. Pretty and fragile. Colorful. Me and my older brother. You and me. Our mothers and fathers and sisters and cousins in this permanence come to meet us, this sun come shining upon us, the same light we all share from the birth of every day, the peak heat midway and stumbling through the certain changes, scratches on our vinyl, scars etched upon us, all shook up we are the same.

Being born is our decided fortune
Dying, our collective fate
Sleeping into dreams
Dreaming to awake

Waking into a nightmare only the mind can indulge, only the spirit can turn around, and no one said it would be easy. Whenever I let myself coast, when I indulge easy comforts, my world becomes a run down motel with vacancy. You wouldn’t wanna stay there. There’s no ice in the ice bin, the vending machine steals your change, and the only inhabitants live on desperation circle. There’s cable tv with no HBO and the remote is sticky with no batteries. You have to take the bedspread and cram it out of sight, it’s so goddam ugly. Like an unrenovated Ramada Inn in Delaware circa 1982. Don’t pry into the corners you might find some broken glass with chore still inside it. The economic disparity, here I cannot hide it.

Can we get along
I need to get along with you
But I’m gonna have to work for it
I’m really uncomfortable

Yes we can and no we cannot, text messaging cause we are too blocked to call. We firewalled one another off for survival. The lines formed on our faces from all the trying to see eye to eye, all of the emotions like waves over all our lives and our faces, no we cannot and yes we can, ground ourselves into it, be there for me and be there for you,  and yes and no and I don’t fuckin know what emoji to send anymore… is there a smiling Buddha? And there the colors go, running again like they do, and the white clothes turn blue. And the off whites do too.

The waves break over us
The foam like ginger ale
Hissing. A snake
Trying to stomach it
Digest it whole

The am radio days away in a last quarter rocking chair of tranquility, and no and yes and it doesn’t matter how anymore but we tolerate one another, good to you and good to me, fruits and vegetables, oatmeal in the morning, bacon and eggs, spinach, shrimp, salmon, and yes and yes and yes I will share mine with you. We are in the same world, we share the same world, the blue and green one from space, the system in place. Television light slaps us in the face, cool blue like my offs and my whites, too.

And not only tv is to blame
We are all at fault
So let’s get over it. Don’t you wanna be your very best today? Your most kind and most fascinating and most helpful? I do. I know you do, too, cause we share the same sun. Our spirits can arise and make do if we wanna. The very best of each of us, united, unique and united.

people work better when driven (insane) -ii)

You would worry when I started talkin’ about culture. I would be sad, when you were tellin’ me about the future.  We would worry , at the bottom of some grave just above sea level, just outside New Orleans. At the top of some skyscraper, in Chicago.  Short days getting shorter, as winter came on. Worries becoming more defined, less complicated as time went on. Less akin to fear. More real. And I could still talk to you and you, me, but neither of us could talk to anybody else. Sometimes. Lots of unintentional broken promises in the world. But why? Was it something about all the air traffic competing for attention, packets and waves? Digital signals. Analog overtones. Low def signals. High def undertones?

Anyway, I didn’t expect to be put on trial in Judge So-and-So’s  court, either. Who plans out their court appearances, precisely, like bottle-ship builders? So why were we there? Public scrutiny over our could give a damn about our in-laws  presentation? To be backhanded for being attracted like mothra to roman candle, to our favorite chosen outlaws? For our multiple citations for  by-law window breakage of some corporate glass house?  Ya. I guess we’re gonna get black for our wool designation. I never asked to be anything. An icon. A nobody. A sentimentalist. A freak. A mentor. A bleeding heart. An outlaw. A witness. I never asked to be an witness. Did you? I just was one.

I never wanted to dig up dirt on anyone. You never wanted to unearth the once savory bones of goodwill gone bad in an microcosmic corner of a lemon-mustard seed culture, sitting between continents like a refrozen sorbet on dragon roll rotation. But when called, one must avoid perjury. We have a strong defense at the ready. Your honor, please, let me call the most dysfunctional family in the greater regional area, to the stand. Ya, they can all fit in the witness box. They speak in unison. No questions, your honor. Just let them knock around up there for a minute. Their presence alone tells volumes. We rest our case.

 We are certainly not guilty of crimes against humanity, ourselves included. It’s not my fault my dna bleeds german. Objection! It wasn’t your preoccupation to study the figures on automaton optimization protocol. I was born in the seventies, man! In the usa. My job was to be free to be me! Not some blueprint come to life on any sale of the century showcase! You were not conceived c-section after a long night of difficult breakbeat breathing, just to end up hanging on some arm or olive branch, for an hour every week! Were you? I was not born an accoutrement! To help sell fine sports cars, toys of the nouveau riche! No! We’re not going at a discount in a dollar store anymore, to someone who looks the part. A good study for consumption! I am no notch in the belt or raggedy rag in the hair, anymore. Trying so hard to protect them from some sun.

We must have early stage alzheimers, you and me and them. Its those iron pots. We gotta get rid of those iron pots…the studies have shown. How many times have we told us? This is where the real crime occurred. In the kitchen. Heavy metal. Its no good for our soft shell brain cells. Shit! Have we all been frying our eggs in it, again? Goodness gracious! Almost forgot to admit that into evidence. Who signed off on iron, in the first place? Was a backroom deal, I bet. Steel got edged out by some caucasian’s half-baked sales pitch, on some back-nine golf game. Before aluminum and Tiger Woods.

That’s how it must have gone down. We may not remember when, exactly, but we were brainwashed by the nine iron lobby. That should shut the door on the case. Now who gets life served up behind steel bars? Whose gonna iron this out? For driving me and you (insane)?

Nobody.

Why? Because we work better, this way.

Katya Mills  07/13 @ katyamills.com

09.01.11

The truth is confusing, the confusion is disturbing, and reality does not give a damn. My heart holds vacancy for the life of them. and you. Still to attend to the sky in its entirety.                          Sea. The depths grow green to Royal blue. Where all lies over exposeD in a happy residue. Off center in allostasis. From the residual, extract the amplification. Subtract from that all that you already know or believe.  The tattooed kneecap. the hair weave. The eyes tell of suffering behind capri ankles. The wrist-roll up to three quarters a sleeve.                The honesty cannot be found from infusion thereafter. She was left to floats on water boiling. Like a poached egg. Then arises Thick, like crisis in love. Then arises as vapor- Clear

by J Nickel

having it up to here and back down

to the rafters