Enclosures:
Tired of artifacts as codes to decipher,
the notes crackle, rough papercut edges,
speaker feedback, hand-painted balsa
boxes, red with white lettering.
To find a reason, really, permanent
trace, fossil, love letter representative one
particular moment, no attempt to construct
history, predictive recap, faulty insurance.
Small muscle spasms, black
ink thickening and thinning, drifting right—
To accept speech fully those seconds, a passing
through, a wholly left in the next.
Find me the interior unclasped, hollowed,
stretched across dry wood, ready
with shreds for the match.
Business 17
1.
I wanted to hear a story
where no one fell in love
and no one died.
2.
Lost
in the Martin Luther King
Memorial District,
I cannot agree
with you & Charleston ;
won't call you up
to say, You're right:
This city
is all played out.
3.
Deeper into the deep
south, where foundations
sink from their rotten
structures. I saw mounds
today, on the Natchez Parkway.
The ones they didn't kill
they drove away.
To join other tribes.
4.
Charleston ,
everything for sale.
Tiny silver earrings
I didn't buy
at the old slave market.
Every sign nailed over
wood held together by paint.
If you wanted to, you could
punch your hand right through.
5.
I (heart) you
31 all the way
turn left 21st ave
to business 17
right on business to
Charleston
6.
What I need to know is,
why you gotta build everything up
just to let it fall down.