.116

its great to be alive in America today.
its great to celebrate and dance
like we mean it.
wherever you are
if you can hear me reading these words,
you are experiencing freedom.
freedom to say fuck and suck
and blowjob and tits and faggot.

freedom to spell come "c-u-m"
freedom to paint pretty pussies on wild caucasian beings
void of depth or meaning;
not quite art for art's sake-
but benign and ripe from the start.

.115

bouncing beats kick BIG
like gang stars ain't
descending on Brooklyn.

hypnotic long islands
put logic aside and speak like drug dealing rap legends
and
rhyme nigga. 

rhyme.

The Floor 11

Bjorn took this one, but I had just got the camera and had no idea how it worked and handed it off to him while he was playing bass. I think he captured the moment nicely. Thanks Bjorn!

.114 [4th St]

the lights are brighter.
the trees shift luminescence
from pale to bright,
spanning a spectrum
of reddish-hued pinks and
cannon grays and
greens - the shade of money.

.113 [work place]

it was a disgusting kind of grind.
a real shit-hole.
lousy benefits.
the kind of place that
makes me wanna
wriggle out of my skin and
on to the mushroom colored carpet,
coffee stained and trampled.

.112

birds flying high -

you know how i feel...

sun in the sky -

you know how i feel...

reeds driftin' on by -

you know how i feel...

i see the pain of practice.
the unescapable slither
of argentine sheen.
two legs - muscled molasses;
the arch of the lower back-
as round and pure as the day
you were born.
as liquid as the day
you discovered the
rond-de-jambe en l'air.

i've seen you
a million different times
in a million different languages.
i've grown accustomed
to your steps,
your gait and your gaze
your locks and your limbs.
the rings of saturn
couldn't be any brighter,
or a bigger mystery to me.

it's a new dawn...

it's a new day...

it's a new life for me...

and i'm feelin' good...

"i love her!!"

a man yells out!
aghast at my own brashness,
i feel the glare of the crowd,
hear the scattered laughter,
see the smirking faces-
faces of longing-
a face i will never wear again...

now that I have seen her dance.