I go to the railroad tracks
And follow them to the station of my enemies
‍
A cobalt-toothed man pitches pennies at mugshot negative
‍
All over the united states, there are
                      Toddlers in the rock
‍
I see why everyone out here got in the big cosmic basket
And why blood agreements mean a lot
And why I get shot back at
‍
I understand the psycho-spiritual refusal to write white history or take the glass freeway
‍
                           White skin tattooed on my right forearm
                           Ricochet sewage near where I collapsed
                           into a rat-infested manhood
‍
My new existence as living graffiti
‍
                                   In the kitchen with
                                   a lot of gun cylinders to hack up
                                   House of God in part
                                   No cops in part
‍
                        My body brings down the Christmas
‍
The new bullets pray over blankets made from old bullets
‍
Pray over the 28th hour's next beauty mark
‍
Extrajudicial confederate statue restoration
the waist band before the next protest poster
‍
                                   By the way,
                                   Time is not an illusion, your honor
                                   I will save your desk for last
                                   You are witty, your honor
                                   You're moving money again, your honor
‍
It is only raining one thing: non-white cops
‍
          And prison guard shadows
                Reminding me of
                Spoiled milk floating on an oil spill
‍
                A neighborhood making a lot of fuss over its demise
‍
                A new lake for a Black Panther Party
‍
Malcolm X's ballroom jacket slung over my son's shoulders
                Pharmacy doors mid-slide
                    The figments of village
                                 a noon noose to a new white preacher
                Wiretaps in the discount kitchen tile
                -All in an abstract painting of a president
‍
Bought slavers some time, didn't it?
The tantric screeches of military bolts and Election-Tuesday cars

A cold-blooded study in leg irons
Leg irons in tornado shelters
Leg irons inside your body

Proof that some white people have actually fondled nooses
     That sundown couples
     made their vows of love over
           opaque peach plastic
           and bolt action audiences

Man, the Medgar Evers-second is definitely my favorite law of science

Fondled news clippings and primitive Methodists

My arm changes imperialisms
Simple policing vs. Structural frenzies
Elementary school script vs. Even whiter white spectrums

Artless bleeding and
the challenge of watching civilians think

           "terrible rituals they have around the corner. They let their elders beg for
                                 public mercy...beg for settler polity"

           "I am going to go ahead and sharpen these kids' heads into arrows myself
                                 and see how much gravy spills out of family crests."

Modern fans of war
                      What with their t-shirt poems
                      And t-shirt guilt

And me, having on the cheapest pair of shoes on the bus,
I have no choice but to read the city walls for signs of my life