Publié chez Materials

Look. I’m gardening for gardening’s sake
the wordical odor of things at odds with my anecdotes.
Sense, then, is excluded from the world.
Where ?
I don’t let anyone I know know where where is.

I’d like to know who decided to look at this creature
and say I’ll make a salad with rice out of you.
They became edible when taken a bite from.

I used to see what you’re saying.
I’m rounding to make it easier
for the little guy in the back of the head
taking care of meaning.

Oh Lord
I’m sorry to hear about your dog.
Her paw couldn’t do a lick of moves.
She can no longer sleep, which makes sense.
I wish I could play the piano for her.

Oh my girl ! What ma do.
You see me as a chicken, your dog.
So maybe I am a sack of grief
but that pup was published in Cambridge
companions to the damned.

Ma gave the child the dog a bark.
I heard the dog.
I hated the dog.
The dog that I had really loved bones everyday.
What a muck it made.

You’d think it was a group
but really it was a luck underdog.
Sometimes I got carried a why is that a duck ?
Why is that a duck ?
Every time I’m grilled I’m stumped.

There are no words for quenched
having been a puddle.
Moving along

We garden praxis with critical conversation and vigilant (though ideally gentle) upkeep of detail and nuance.

In that biosphere of phenomenal engagement, we nurture, restore or postpone our humanity.

A slave owner is not someone who does not pay people for their work, as much as someone who will maim or kill people if they do not work (let alone, yet especially, revolt). And this equation continues into this modern era with hyper militarization of police, mass internment of Brown and Black people, permanent imperialist invasions around the world, and masses who practice whiteness (as it was designed by past U.S. ruling classes), not as a privilege, but rather a deputization.