the first intərˌlo͞od

I got a Recording King Guitar
yesterday, at a local mom & pop shop called 'The Fifth String'

So on days like today, when I got nothing to say,
I may offer you some freestyle
six string
steely

 intərˌlo͞od

~ enjoy ~

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-

perpetrates the sanity

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 Preface

from the cutting room floor, circa 2009 …  my fresh falling in love with some guy who could give a shit. or so time told.

love on the auction block like a craigslist listing ripe now 5 days old

with a buy now option but still got killed. Witnessed by the watchers

left with some sadsong ebay email says

“ unsold ”

in boldface arial black

indeed. love ran the sword.  all she got was an epitaph written by anonymous lover who knows who:

here love resides. emotional low succeeded by rising titrated high tides.  love of the sunset tapers. The mad red sunrise. rarely unremarkable. love hurt… mad love… had heart

 

The dreadlocks were thick and held by

                                     silver and gold rings in various outcroppings from

                                  his nappy nappy

                                                 pretty head

            caribbean foundation put a smile in his eyes, she saw. Must have seen him six different ways since

sunday...

                                       Rolling up on

a week of conscious contact between them.

deuces wild.

 

She was trying for

she was crying for someone to love and love her for her by her stand by her aliven her. Like wild. Like aces and deuces wild.

He just let her see and touch

this gorgeous napped out unmapped out

dreadlocked mess!

                            She smiled to find coins and precious uncommon keepsakes clasped around them

Some maybe placed years back and now immovable. Run freely up and down then found roots somewhere

an oily fresh weave? on highway eight or four? Out in unincorporated Martinez or Pacheco? circa 1988.... escaped from NYC – land of love and hate.           

                               She imagined

           what was clear to her was that this man this young man

he had been loved!  yes! Once was loved and hey!maybe many times who knows and theres no asking!

She suddenly felt hope! for him for her with him. She was suddenly struck with it. Just some light manicuring to take the edges off one another, just some light shown there in that puzzle piece place of connection. She felt.

From her shoulders

from her retinas

From her self less got lost into him. By route of Spirit on backs of roads to fields of velvet folds.

 Letting herself walk out there

was wondrous

was easy

was a world she would soon pray to have a place in

2…

 

Way 2 much invested 2 soon

it sadly seemed.

What was new?  4 her? – NOTHING! so easily sized up triple beamed and tared. known quantity.

weighed out. untouched. bagged. distributed.

 

Cold contact titration

lacking any sensation

just a feeling washed up on your shore

a feeling which was her.

 

And he like so many b-4 him

chose to taper against her written script...just short of doctor shopping, truth be told. Or he was shopping elsewhere all along.

Her prayers to be let in got laid out cold T-boned

The physics the physical force and subsequent distance was atomic - too great 2 overwhelming for her to bridge. wounds came to be she could not close.

She was left desperate to throw up a sign now and then to remind him she got real estate, damn it! They got real estate!

 

So it seemed so soon she needed help and she knew it, he knew it, she fell to her knees crying with

the 222222222222222222222 repitition

in her lonely little aftermath space always reserved for her lonely little inconsolable

singular bedhead.

Her body her new jersey skin

pale white in the winter

coffee and cream colored in the summers

her flesh and her skin touched only by

                                          held only by

                                                known only to her

Again 

against that dark world all around her.... the cruel world!  perpetrates the sanity it does yes it does.

Her defenses now beleaugered once ran deep to stave, to hold the world off or at some distance so she could breathe at least

at last

 Yet the dreads! the dreads hung fresh and dry in her mind, her heart felt through the touch! the heart! felt the touching!

heartfelt and touched by

the symbols! the language of the diverse weaved into a bond impenetrable,  long long grown to let the world and everyone in it know not to --

Don't fuck with! this certain rooted element certain divine in the end not for her other than to witness see and touch.

Best of times she thought, how lucky her lucky star lucky day to lie around lazy with young punk rastafarian lineage? take a load off and get listless in the aftermath the postpunk postatomic posthypnotic stonewalled cellphone called up immediate microwaved and you better behave cause the walls are so thin all the sound is free to get down and move around and then – well then you have your rights, ya, your right to remain silent and have anything and everything held against you like a cold blade to your neck when youre getting jacked up.

its fucked.

Anyway, back out in the sun after she ran from Fascist Alley, she found hella wisdom on Broadway. All condensed and rolled up tight filaments.

Zipped. Charged with unusual science

undetectable to the ordinary pre-eminent usa-usamericans steady eyes. Left then right. First, second, open and aware sensing. Lawns outdoors. Rinsing. Into streets with real curbs detailed with clear arches. Roman tribute. Tricked out by fast food monsters. Golden arches. Hit the streets universal. Sore to the eye and unnatural. Comparable to some bdsm sanctioned Golden plastic showers. Theatrical.

 

Where she remained was

in her prayers in her dreams in what was left of memory

mixed with childlike imaginations...

Fit to be and possibly, fifty one fifty, for all anyone knows or even cares.

Nothing reflects on her. Embedded in the fearful lacking

loss of shine

her over time daydream remembering overshadowed eventually...embedded in the dreadlock. Hoping for a key.

Embedded in the dreaded nightmare location. Where love has run the sword and not yet quite arisen.

Sky without sun

Earth without trees.

                                           fin

call the eyes, and raise you a lash

i wake in the certainty of another predawn sabbath... my heart aligned with the philly from the far post. i wake in the certainty of alexandra! all i am is another fresh young urban American girl doing damage in the midst of global warming. dont even know i am disturbing sometimes. cannot hold myself back. would not. upsetting the closet cases who have shuttered themselves safely away from the world. poor cloistered animals! apparently i hurricane their world. just walking through it with my gang and my attitude sometimes. wild. i guess i scare them. In the calm of my eye, their quivering lips show fangs and drop curses around my pretty little head. i fall back in my diva blues and my hands fall naturally to my hips in support of my decidedly colorful way of giving myself to the world (what i always presume to be harmless and requisite). but i am a sensitive girl and the cold chill of air stirs up all my little feelings. and my heart she gotta pause to feel her way through this whats left of the patriarchy asserting itself in America. makes me self righteous, which i cannot do nothing with. so i let that one go into my posture maybe a little, but thats the extent of it. then after pause-- i get sad, just sad to be misunderstood again. cause i mean no harm. like you i wake in the simple certainty of self, to bless the world today and give her my all! not to get in the way.... yet i get in the way anyway! just walking in my hood and here comes some drunken beard swoopin in so close i can smell salt and beer and the entirety of alpha male ass. what inspired his sharing of intimacies? all i do is frame the sun in between my soft little hands and claim solaris! i am the philly efforting to shine, is all. i am not the kind of girl to roll my tanktop up between my fingers and go convertible just to summon sex appeal and then leave you all craving, no! i am not intentionally cruel. i know when my blonde sheen is overexposed and become painful to your eyes. i know my place in this tired moment in time. the old boys club still has us kneeling with our wrists bolled over thinking have mercy. there is only so much freedom there. freedom to be the fair and vulnerable. i can present pretty nice, let my highlights shock them some. only to stand out a little! to make it a little less tired, a little more worth checking out! by no means am i rooted in bleach blazing around town in my wide and open eyes. i am too lost for that, vulnerable with heartache and anti-competitive anti-trust aura in my era. and i will defend myself. and i have captured the hearts of true gentlemen who defend me when i cannot. and i do ascertain and promote the wild nature in us all...i aint nobodys fucking slave! i offer you compassion towards us. we need it bad! we do. keep a stake in the game. when you put your finger under my chin i will be ready for you. ready for you to call my eyes, boy. and i raise you a lash. cause goddamn all we got is this game right now! i need you to please pull out all your charm and gentility to anchor me. then you get my love and loyalty. i walk beside you, through it. then we get to work together to make it real. out of the abstract and into some long remembered unison. like the dead at shoreline sharing women sharing wine. like the philly at preakness. like the rhythm escapes us sometime. got to recalibrate the equilibrium. i will clasp you with painted nails. you will take your steeltoe boot to the earth. declare our love in a rough circle in the dirt and not worry. its okay. just lay your coats down. lay down your arms. stand in the circle. in our divination. touching spirits. feeling it!