a way aways (cold steel# iii)

a way aways

part iii dedicated
to kali to kila
to february 12, 2013 = 11


She takes
yer rules-of-road
yer mandates federal
yer ideas of fair
yer fears...

she licks them speechless

swallowed
the music-the man-the mainstream

 swallowed
the line-the linear-the madmadlineage

swallowed 
the age-of-fadness' rivercesspoolz

fell
into her wake
deconditioned
decommissioned
transmissions.....

swallowed
into her lake like history
that which B
swallowed by
the sea

this sucker she
will make you her bitch
and liquefy all the earth
around us

you and me both

this fucker
will have us
suck fumes

FUCK - uuuuuuumes

she whines
ignited
turned over
her oilpans full with
blackblood, she

unassumes

like
no one
never knew


but, i think,
strange to say
she loves somehow
through cold rain of
insect-stung steel

cause
that was back then
wasn't that?

cause now
she is all
opened up
on open road...

carrying my needy ass again
she sounds
 like a ten
out of ten


and she carries
me and mine and
our kid

eyes full moon
our kid
what me made
we made

she marries
our nineteen eighty
static images 
small town to suburban
to urban...

she crosses
the many states
of miss america...

compelling 
telling
turning

toward all
our consciousness...

always
a great distance
incomparable

like steel
and flesh

a safe way aways
sending up steam
behind lawn-hose-sprays

ribbons of rainbow
summer hydrant
waters
in our war against
the roads we travel

residuals
washed off her

then quiet dripping
in the garage
we leave her
safely kept

a safe distance
while we send up steam
beneath showerheads
 in our home...

safely kept

steady-dripping
the day's residue
toward the drains

a way
  aways
   leaves us

-fin-

notarize the thighs

Probably should not enter here, a familiar yet faraway voice offers. The voice triggers the visual. A question mark which appears like clockwork (after the voice), like a music applications italicized version suggesting living motion or audible quality conveyed via italics. The image of a question mark in lights and stripes in motion like a barber shop's shingle, barber shop's cylinder of red, white, blue and light.

The aforementioned visual appears before her eyes, our young single white female. She faced the intensity of the light and felt the uncensored whole of what emanated. She opened up to the real, which in turn dropped on her in direct correspondence to the level of her openness, the very real. When real became very real, her eyes opened ever more, from almond shape to marble, it the ameliorated states.

Real and animated against the terrain in front of her. She could dissociate from her environment without losing any connect. Widescreen landscape between her long unpainted lashes. She watches as it spirals, grows, then shrinks away. The question mark is really a loose rendition: and becomes less finite and more lifelike as it swells out and moves gingerly yet with cautious expansiveness through her wide eyed blue ice sky twilight desert land. Crisp and sharp picture, without humidity. This was and is and will be the only visual she associated with this particular voice. Who the hell knows why.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) she does not have time to figure it out, decipher its meaning or relevance to her, and she had neither interest or money to pay some PI or psychiatrist or cinematographer or surveyor to do the work for her.

The thought hardly crossed her mind to hire anyone ever to do anything for her. She never had and probably never would. Very DIY by nature. She inherently disagreed with the tax system, though she paid into it. She advocated for a system with allowances for payment by not only checking accounts and money orders, but payment by community service hours. The dollar bill, though convenient and necessary in many situations she faced, on the macro level she saw how money exchange in the capitalist sytem robbed people of opportunities to put the mind and body and spirit into play.

Which to her was the marrow of life blood.
to be continued...