A mine in the gold-field

Of boys who stole smooth skin and full arteries,
witless stooges them, I declare a story:
the doom of the twentieth century
was the twentieth century’s becoming:
half-trained in the mire of libraries
referencing libraries burned at the equator:
the bodies of the wealthy delighted
ever in the distance from their mothers:
types and riggings the better brag on
as they spar with their plushes:
but all the black boys stole nothing
that James Baldwin didn’t give anon,
for the faded currency of satire
bears a gore its letters won’t wash off.


~ by Jeremy on May 28, 2013.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: