back
the road to somewhere is a tetris match
against the walk in sidewalk of
the promise me bullshit jobs
no automatic capitalization
or guaranteed sanitation
beyond zone 3 of
the ego
is a ghost
scaring the bones:
        i hate bullies so i’ve become one
                POW WOW NOW
        would be fair
but i’m perfectly okay with just
        NOW

there are already too many people
with a telescope on regimes of truth
i didn’t sign my sovereignty to
my
legs
hurt because thinking
        against the future
about the future
        because thinking
because the future
won’t spell much dexterity to
any of my tentatively
public limbs

        & i don’t even get many take-away
drinks but i know the political
is also espresso foam &
every added sum
                but right here
         too, and mainly, the very dandruff
washed off those mega sweet grapes
from Aldi times the London Met helicopter
casting shade over the sink
eating voracious

a blunt shadow
to spite the
shimmer
around water drops
        left on read,
                mid-flight

        a mid-night
in mid-day

surely,
this too is proof
that relativity can be
as Special and General as my libidinal economy

besides HOW CAN EVERY GRAPE BE SEEDLESS!?

*
        as for statecraft, well,
there’s no infinite reach on the air above and below the ground

To paraphrase an academic footnote on constitutional spaces:
        any two straws sharing
        the same milkshake can
                spurt equity disputes
                among drinkers;

a rather fatuous species-world perpetuant bias
nature made up for colonial stock
a zero-sum game
        which any linguistic fire work
may very well
shrug off for all
autonomy is concerned with semantics

                        Enjambment,
                bio & logical,
        may be the most honest way to be
        a fool:

drink the cup dry, but puke it back in.