Herstory Check

Slivered eyes my

way, my walk watched and

weighted, always on a scale of thumbs.

And I cease to be myself again,

surfeited definitions like bent hands on Salvador's clock.

All you cocks figure it out,

I'll be in my vagina bubble awkwardly predicting each one of you

onto the colored lights by name

--but let me make clear:

my legs are not spread to your mock or like or silence

--toys and go home

I AM YOUR FATHER

and I dance in your brined uncertainty at everything.

Only my friends bring me to parties anymore.

If he's hostile, he's hurting. When the river of blood
flows from Mama's wounds he will exclaim about
injustice and invisibility. Interrelation with irritability
may be extrapolated so far only by the initiated.

And when her heaven walks across his soul,
it reminds him of the hell he carries within.
The years of fists and tears beneath his skin
These bags he tries again and again
To put under the radar, or tear asunder.

They pursue him doggedly without regard
For any sense of earthly reward
The poison is not the cure, stop recommending
It to him.





I've been watching films about media and war again. I also got to watch fish killed, their bellies ripped open--but only the fish that had eggs within. Fish carcasses containing Milt (sperm) were given more time and attention. I find this interesting.