There are cooperative arts made by combinations of Marina Greeno-Mcneil, Matt Reynolds, Jesse Blount and myself, Jesse Black. The paper gets folded so that each artist does their bit without having seen the rest of the bits. Marina instigated this whole initiative. Keep it up!
I haven’t written anything in a while, except this strange collection, in response to a rather unsual and remarkably significant evening.
“Excuse me, but you ruined my outfit. Please get a room, I was laughing so hard I spilled beer all over my pants.”
Disposable plastic cups
Dispose of each-other?
Although the evening took me over, despite the chemistry within my blood, don’t forget what I told you. Because for a night you took me over, and I mean everything that I said.
The whited-out streets are ours,
Fresh snow glimmering under neighbourhood lights,
Illuminating the few trees still left on this block—
A less-than-perfect stage, but it’ll do.
You can be little red riding hood, I’ll be the wolf;
Or be Grettel, lose Hansel, I’ll follow your crumbs;
Perhaps be Rapunzel, and let down your wet hair,
Snowflakes melted by warm thoughts and delighted breaths.
Better yet, be yourself, and help me turn this field into houses.
We pack together snow, like images of one another;
They brilliantly fall apart in our mittened hands.
Laughing, we tumble and look up, astounded—
Above us, trees are frozen in their reach,
Knowing spring won’t come for months.
At our feet, patches of Goldenrod are in dramatic sway,
Like wailing mothers of dead Italian soldiers.
All around, life imagines better times,
And darling, as your sweet voice
turns to harsh keys on a computer keyboard,
I realize you and I are no exceptions.
With midnight tracks awakened,
She hands you one last swig of vodka revelations.
Fuzzy mice, like thoughts, dart back and forth,
Frantically weighing their options
Under the cycloptic eye of the approaching train.
West, she smiles, with well-liquored lips;
You fumble with the lid for an empty bottle,
Setting small goals,
While she comes up off the ground,
Ready to devour the universe.
She makes her way towards the tracks;
You brace her stubborn swagger.
Let’s leave it all behind, she says each time,
As she fades through your jacket’s warmth,
Into an erratic pulse within you.
Now, through eyes worn thin by countless years,
You watch mice sleep on the long-abandoned railbed.
No one knows where she could be;
There aren’t many people left that knew her,
And even those that did…
Didn’t know her at all.
you are green clouds perched on the tallest pillar,
you are the lowest flowing dreams of humanity.
keeping us on our toes always reaching for more,
you reject the selfish and reward the kind and true.
to believe the book is to doubt your brilliance,
to trust the theory is to ignore your mastery.
would you dare to dream of a man-less place ?
i know that i could not live in a land that lacks you.
your mind knows great and grand of a world without me,
a perfect earth so clean and whole, an entire soul.
my memory knows not of any terrible sadness yet felt,
if you were to leave me for that memory not forgotten.
to forgive the crippling burdens we bestowed upon you,
a cure lingering into the howling years we eagerly await,
your answer to our sinful ways…
we may die before we hear.
Man made government is an opinion, a belief of authority which exists solely on the premises of its own inherent importance, which could be discontinued at any point. Man has become so enthralled with this superficial creation that he is losing sight of the very boundaries of both reality and reason. Does not the health of the planet take value and priority over the economy, another apparent creation of man to satisfy his intrinsic, programmed selfishness and greed, to which the conditions of the Earth and the human soul are immune? Does not the wind trespass upon every nation of the world, and receive no consequence for this? God, may you be kind and steadfast, for my heart is weak and I am only a child molded from the clay of the Earth.
It is not easy being here.
I was actually doing this so innocently.
You could ask me anything.
Our world is made up of many struggles and hardships.
Life carries on and is actually a vicious cycle.
I will do my time and face the world with total boldness.
Hope you are doing okay?
The heat is kind of unbearable;
the Sun Shines with all it’s glory.
Where are you?
In a split second the weather changes.
There’s heavy downpour and I start to shiver
cos the rain brings a lot of cold.
It’s sort of having 4 seasons in a day.
It’s going on 15 years.
How could I not adapt.
In my room with 24 others,
I’m in my own world.
The sky in different hues
actually amazes me.
The moon is also my thing.
Please don’t cry softly.
Smile on thinking of me.
Though it is painful to be treated this way,
I know this nightmare will be over.
There is no budget for me to survive.
Can you hear me?
Everything around us is so beautiful.
Our creator is marvellous.
Soldiers rouse my slumber
Soldiers plague my classroom
Where is freedom now?
Awakened by the pitter-patter
The raining down of lead
Imprinted in mine ‘I’
The hysteria of tears
Of every tribe
Violence attaining violence
The ends reflect the means
Lukah was brave
she dazzled, even me,
enough to believe in the innocent intentions
and those girls, the night she wore that red sweater
i watched her spin through blue in mid-transformation
and spit sweet smoke on the concrete
as she designed blueprints
for how to be human, here
she’d been chasing Khyber all along
who falls so hard so fast so strong
and sees through the tinted glass of heart
the tinted glass of liquid
a kaleidoscope; tumbling freckles and imperfections and individual little hairs
she begs sweet promises at night
that no one would want to keep in that moment
and soon; she’s standing under artificial bathroom light
seeking the distance it takes to escape the liquid pouring down now unfamiliar cheeks;
pooling in dimples;
begging her to leave and stay and go away and never come back,
one at a time
and Cash trembles
like an earthquake,