Friday, April 7, 2017

Tongo Eisen-Martin, I Do Not Know the Spelling of Money

I see why everybody out here got in the big cosmic basket
And why blood agreements mean a lot
And why I get shot back at

A fly studies me at a border crossing
It has been studying everything at this border,

“But did you bring me some artless bleeding back to defend”

White wall faces loosen your supply of whisky

Your buildings almost look like canyon walls

The european city becomes pleasant now despite my new existence as living graffiti

There’s commotion on the carpet

Some call it late hour imperialism

People I do not know
Pitch pennies at my mugshot negative

I run away from detail
With black paint dripping from my arms

City of arms

The new bullets pray over blankets made from old bullets

And me, having on the cheapest t shirt on the bus,
I have no choice but to read the city walls for signs of my life

No, I am not chipping away at anything

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