Friday, January 22, 2010


I close my eyes, take a breath
And I'm walking on the street
42 steps around the corner
42 pounds of steel in my hand
There they are, glowing in the night:
Windows - glass - clear melted sand - crumbled rock and pounding waves - a mountain - fissures in plates
Send them home
I can already see it
The pattern of light
Fissures in plates
A branching, fractal geometry
Light becomes space
Space becomes sound
And shards - shimmering liberated shards
Ubiquitous. Infinite. Beautiful. Chaos
& banshees & lights & cars & handcuffs & guns & bars & walls & running & sweat
& darkness, giddy, giddy, darkness
Who's laughing now, window?

These windows have been mocking me since I came to this neighborhood:
"You know what was done to your brothers and sisters
Is being done
Will be done
You can't stop it
Aren't even going to try
And to show the world how tamed your spirit is, how feeble your fight, we're only going to protect ourselves with a thin sheet of brittle, structurally unstable, transparent, you know it's there because of glare, glass
That's all we need
You don't have the fucking scrote to stand up to us
We're Bank of fucking America, bitch.
Do something about it. Do something!
What? I can't fucking hear you."

The truth is I didn't break a window tonight
It's 4 in the morning and I'm warm and dry in rainy winter weather
I'm sitting in my living room writing to candlelight
Reeling from the rush of the passing siren
For a second I hear it stop in front of my house
And watch as SWAT kicks in my door
Someone, somewhere knows where my mind has been
The moment passes and still I pray for vindication
Prove to me I'm dangerous
That I have something inside that the system should fear:
White walls. Straight jackets. Doctors.
And Patients.

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