With Tom Bair: 27 may 2009

I am abiki and orisa at once
tracing the never ending cycles
the mandala of the sun and the earth.

he got a tattoo of a diamond
on his face because he thought
he was into the sort of girls
who would have been into
the sort of guys who had
a tattoo of a diamond on their face.

I burned my manuscript and threw
the leftover ink into his face
to fill the blank stare.
he was worth less than a word.

and what is this thing
swimming soul-like through
the creases of my being
like an eel, with a laugh
so bitter i can taste it?

I know that i am worth less
than the ink and ashes
it’s invested in
the hollow spaces
underneath my fingernails.

word.

the diamond is not a metaphor.
and watch me watch me watch
me become something you
wouldn’t write about,
at least not in a poem
to read at milquetoast
coffeehouses or in the
national slams. I am too
easy to ignore – so cross
the street to get away from me.

I don’t look out
my window anymore.
I memorized the view.
i breathe an ant song.

I call it violence by omission.
they call me god because
my wind is newer than yours.
they call me prayer because
I am their hands.

tell her I stayed up all night
upside-down. Then breathe
the breaking awe. then join
the crowd and breathe their
residue.

by residue, of course, I mean
the thought of me. I am not
a narcissist. I am not a
solipsist. I only believe in
the whole of the thoughts of me.

enter each other quietly.
you are each a church.

and we rise and we rise
and we rise and we praise
our emptiness in perfect silence.