MADE FOR YOU AND ME 2: hive Being (Stanzas 2017—part 16)
Let's workshop this stanza sequence about elected officials being forced to reveal their underwriters, budding insanity, life affirmation implicated even in bleak art, justifications for being a tool
more now than mumbling to your hallucinations behind locked doors in gated communities raging at the bigotry of border control the bitter essence could not be cordoned off as “just a phase" desperate to constrain the inner theater to ethnocentric sanities words of condolence meant to cut: “It’s such a shame your own son couldn’t even call on your birthday” picture politicians having to sport, at least while acting in official capacity, chest-sleeve patches— NASCAR-jacket style—for all their sponsors! works deemed “obscurantist” for refusing cursory attention to forgive “sin” is to forgive Earth’s gravity for restraining flight might you take comfort perhaps in that this cringeworthy moment will be replaced by yet another? even if it takes frames to pick out bodies as distinct from others, the world minus frames would still be no homogenous plenum— unless, of course, framing is an activity fundamental to reality no matter how reflective of darkness it is, the art would not be were it not for a gush of life-zest—some exigency—in the artist wanting escape from being—that feeds rage against cliché: the ground of creation, what everything is or threatens to become following heinous orders, consoled by the maxim “It all works out in the end” still correcting your son’s talk of partner: “You mean, ‘friend’—your roommate” to unsay all nouns would not be to unlock a mute essence too old to be adopted creedal cataracts warping roots as payback for warped roots caught in endless tailoring when the off-the-rack solution would have been fine running into your rapist each day in the dorm hallway letting grime build for the pleasure of removal sometimes the subject is not to be centered in the viewfinder despite the pain of loved ones, you congratulate yourself on predictions come true embracing a lesser enemy because it is the enemy of a greater enemy, one set up for that end by the lesser enemy so what do you do when your wife comes home beaten—face bloodied, gashed up purple green— and says a man she is having an affair with did it? mouth-eye the hilarity of silverbacks and other beasts whose ancestral wiring has them bluster bellicose even at uncalled-for turns can we really blame her for taking the moonrise for granted—as if it will always be there—when the number she will see is likely less than twenty?
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 2017 portion of that five-part work.
