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September 25, 2019 Poetry

Four Poems 

Kamden Hilliard

Four Poems  photo


Very Crowded Bar but Ain’t No1 Make Their Way to the ICC yet?


Fell sorrow’s small intestine ; order a cosmo witcha 
real shoulders out from under chuffed collar . Want 
finally fleed – walk – wake the military domesticc’s 
tight bounce, coin , backup . Still made ; easy lying 
down innit ( cause I made it . ) Prefer this 1 , where 
we burn down innit . I think about that statea me : 
overwhere , deposed , squirrilish , squiggled , squeakin 

on to something else , no doubtedly , detestably . 

America has no regime but social lawlicy . White terror 
opens with plea— a guilty putterng : Pardon , I’m saving 
this seat for a friend . Pardon, could you help me find 
out where I’m coming from ? Pardon , I’ve taken the 
counterhegemonik turn @ 25 & am stressed by the con 
of compliance . Pardon , just got caught up eavesloppin
who ever in this dive decided exactly who I might be  .




Last Party; Same Tony


Spitting up on what might come of a tailgate, I tell Tony, “What is going on 
is quite vivdly not like I am Elizabeth Bishop in the Harbors of Brazil, on, 

‘I’d have to say, April 25th, because its not too hot & not too cold, all you need 
is a light jacket!’ (In the film version, a speaker’s eyes go holey gathering 
the configuration of light). 

                                                     Our sex goes on like this. Us knowing. No one 
knowing. Me knowing. Them throwing a ball in the place were disaster waits. 
Them throwing a ball. Them cans. Them shouts. Them supporters of a single prayer 
system. Them autodidactic integrates.

                                                                          But that's not the point either, that Tony
& I often bottom out on the stilling of fullmoon fats, that I've made an excellent
drink. 

         Luckily, no one will touch me here, which, aside from being 
where I hang my blackhat, is a sublurbian harbor, fan of dock fees, fond 
of snapchat & essentially overdue for someone who like or look like me to help 
themselves inside me ; makes me hard 
to focus going forward into the folds of Tony and I’s staging of desire. Limited run.

& it is not even yet April! We have not yet met the conditions of cruelty. 

This will be really fun[say Tony, on the night of], so y, Tony, are we swaying 
to jahwaiian-trap under a highway overpass?

                                                                                        In all fairness, we do sound fun. 
Having settled in for the night, the night found itself elsewhere. Prob got worked up 
bout it, too. Prob clouds. Maybe police. Maybe G-dD-d / WordWord. Maybe just 
try make nice. Giv’em stars. Suggest your beauty. Demand to be preserved. (In the film version, 
cut to an empty fishtank filled with pebble-like amber)

                                                                                                   But instead it's a yelling. Noise
complaint. We were heard having a fight while having a blast while partying while mixing 
mixed drinks for a gathering codeless of fire’s concern. & as the lazy governance of joy 
might dictate, I dipped from what other terrors might befalls the partying pedestrians. 
I will not wait to find out next week. 



HOW HAV I LET IN THE ERR?


I’m coolyea !     
Great now ! 

Know how it feels    to be hard 
4 wat jump the circuta pleasure !

                  (It feels bad)

Got the note )KICKWE( [funny 
admit
-tedly] but having suffered paper 
jawd submissionaries of medicine 
without aide & unsuccessfully , I come to
-gether . Close. Successive suture’s been hard
on reality . It does not feel good to burn only empty 
calories . Ageless disappointment ; Baffled by prix 
fixe harm .                                           I am happy 
as I am abandonded 
by song . 

Had bread , salt , and wine ; love’s acute shelter amid ongoing loss . 


Alternativelty , G-d said to Job , “I’ll tell you when you’re older . ” So here’s to the future
panic ! & I’ll call on the energy of several white women , each waiting
for their own managers , daring me do demand the exact price 
sheets of forgiveness . 

                     I meen ,, issa big deal . Party,

in the proper épistémè , but here we’ve settled 
for pardon,                               who asks , 

     How, exactly, have you been holding these 9/10ths?
     How, exactly, have you entertained dis content?



DOING TOO MUCH LIGHT( , FANTASTIC ! )
 

            Mākaha Beach, Winter 2018
                              

   Shhhkmrp   into the freeze of need , where i occur 
  strobic ,       so sorry 4 any gold        standardsa goodness ,
which don’t like how I’m seeing         non-gmo joy .  Glass
  cold toast the party then drink it a ways into America’s 
   red eyed mourning .

   There is a list of things
  to forget about the beer , the nearbeer , 
 the queer unfurling experience of having had come 
            a - top   climatological     light castng ;      top   
            the Jumbotron’s earILY loud arguments for sugar , 
     for the presence of sugar ,       for what lies shallow 
      of full food certification .

  I’m exhausted by “light , ” then . “Fun , “ too . For all 
 I’ve known , every clinking smile sick on sugar . Like lite , 
 like the head glare , like proximity to low cost caloric value .

 I mean ,           the gub ’ mint will not stop shutting
  up about my problems  & I still need to sober up
   about my problems ,         drive amid 
     my problems ,       & ice down 
      before the whole party 
       goes limp in choppy 
         morning waves .

 

 

image: Dorothy Chan


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