MADE FOR YOU AND ME 1: hive Being (Stanzas 2016—part 53)
Let's workshop this stanza sequence about kintsugi pottery, butt-cheek Rorschach tests, paranoia, whale songs, toddlers waking up parents, female squirting, organ donation, cheap weave, immigrants
spreading her ass to a brown butterfly inkblot even voices muted in fear resonate as thunder in his paranoid ear jailed men start to make love whale songs tickling communal memory in distant pods gaining credibility through self-discrediting disclosures, the ugly guts ant mounds mower-riled, dragonflies hover the lawn prison’s regimented schedule at least made so many job-ready lowering her face from his volatile gaze further enflamed his rage the accidental electrocution of the electro-fisherman the cover story versus the real story blind but resolute removal of the shaft just before she squirts fury-shattered pottery made whole through patient joinery—fragments transfigured into gnarled eloquence rambunctious fiends in dawn beds armed with toys, parents guarding vitals—testicles, eyes—in half sleep children flipping between languages, connecting their immigrant parents to bus drivers and doctors and cashiers living in a place everyone calls a paradise, the pressure is to preserve that reputation geniuses of path-blazing, much more than those of analysis, leave silly mistakes for scholars to build careers disclosing the belief in race seems akin to the belief in witches, but a real commonality—no, not the power to fly— bloomed between all those persecuted as witches over ten percent of food-stamp money used on sugary drinks fingers crossed for an accident to yield the required organ trees give us warmth in their burning sparks of defiance against the crushing dark, beacons for future souls curling iron—cheap weave—fire detector ancient seafarers losing sight of familiar constellations native trails echo through the asphalt under our tires beneath its pristine surface, residents wrestle black widows and pills already one suicide attempt behind her tattoos revealing not a hard-won character, but his cheap attempt to claim one eating hardboiled eggs over the sink, salt straight from Morton yet another student mob provoked even more by the professor’s pathetic bowing you cannot blame whites today who try to pass for black anymore than blacks yesterday who tried to pass for white: people chase opportunity beyond even geographical lines the immigrants shed old-world garb as they cross in hope for opportunity, sensing they would lose community mycelia in this mulch fruit with rain— argent withering by noon silver coins in water boiling the mushrooms— black coin: poisonous he was okay with a little sloppiness in his creative overflow, thinking of all the scholar jobs it would open denounced as nothing but a sketch: strokes too hurried, too staccato, too enamored of what is fleeting to have micro precision
This is a portion of an ongoing mosaic poem called Made for You and Me. This portion is from the first installment: hive Being (Stanzas 2016-2020). More specifically, it is from the 2016 portion of that five-part work.
