titanium, boom shocka, kill di woofa.

thrash reverberating neatly polish mih ride.

                            hyphy dancehall — no can

               hear tings demur.

titanium, boom shocka, kill di woofer

whine mih curvature: cause a road slaughtah.

                            ain’t neck breaking like dutty

               when she whine.

               titanium, boom shocka, kill di woofa.

thrash reverberating neatly polish mih ride. sih?

flensing the bounce, the clap cheeks make, boys are

adored too easily. or perhaps the treasure trove we

deem invoked by twerk. love offering? booty without

arcane clues? rump could be scrolls the pirates desire

buried in the crease of flesh; or even thoroughbred mouthed

by knees that meet upon instruction and beat. Who

discovers the loot? cheap stilettos draw blood. are

we penors of lace fronts? our muskets black thighs? we

perspire into amphorae enough to erect and reward. in

15 cubits resides our platinum peek-a-boo chests. the

glare: a sunspot adorned just for a night of presence.

wi taught in Home Ec. holim our ti that

rot. dat pinky (etiquette fo da poor), an organdy

digit bent or improperly straight fo jokes. pillow

memory namba tu. slender organic coke spūn to

sample: dat dragon tip bikmama used to never

salim us spotted wit crusty yau. she curl

her pinga into canals; scoop & clear. irony against

every suga straw. teacha gift: porcelain ti set fo me.

I am a cowry girl, a marine biologist to be exact. The 8-hour move-

ment started in the United States in 1884. Feeling more and more.

Gave birth. Took up the question. 8 hours shall be the norm. Marx:

Slavery disfigured a part of the republic. Labor with a white skin

cannot emancipate itself where labor with a black skin is branded.

The time named. Endorse the same. Half of the same. More pro-

foundly. Therefore be considered a synonym.

Dear Emily,

For poetry—I have you. One need not be a House—One need not be a

Nation or a Master for that matter. Delicate and beautiful, common

in rich mossy woods, in pairs, we live.  We are crimson-pink, partic-

ularly in the mountains. The rough terrain is not visible to many, but

somewhat green and fatigued, demilitarized! A nod from far away is

hollow. True men—How shall I greet them? Nation building is kind

and generous. It is common to decline it. Emily, Shall I – bloom?

Yours, Twin Flower   

Your message to me:

Forgetting is lovely and Father’s well is bottomless. Freud says: the

way in which national tradition and the individual’s childhood mem-

ories are formed might turn out to be entirely analogous.

Indeed, a higher authority can shift the aim of the resistance to

memory. Madness may be a form of resistance. Forgetting is lovely

and Father’s well is bottomless. In order to remember an incident

painful to national feeling, a lower psychic agency must resist the

higher authority. However, it is against the Law. Tea and false mem-

ories. Which is lovelier? Colony or neocolony? The shift in the aim is

minor. Forget something then remember something else. The loveli-

est of all is the unconscious—it is lively. In defense of nation’s par-

amnesia, tea must be served at all times. Migration, my nation!