Assiduous Rant

Here is a morning when English
is gibberish so blue is blur or bliss;

Mother assembles dolls in the assembly line,
works at a shoe store, then she stops working;

Flowers belie a smooth mitosis in green houses,
the sun is a constant x in the equation of silence;

I draw lopsided gowns and cheer for the giant's death.

When I finally understand English, a classmate cups
her hands around my ear. I am eager for the tender

secret and she screams gibberish in my ear.

What is this, a Korean parade?' the obese pale man
cries to the rag tag circle of skinned kneed kids.

I save my words for a cold, indecipherable day.
Think of acidic quips years after the attack.

The source is the gorging mouth, the tale
half-told: the giant was Indian,

The king kidnapped him and had him
macerated for his whale-like bones.

guernica was an overheard cry,

Now there is uncertainty, a feast of all mouths.
A need to get heard,

my throat burns from lucidity, bellowing "3
ellipses not 4, N dash not M!"

The giant was Indian. The king kidnapped him
and burned him for his exaggerated bones.

Gibralter was a homeless black man with a sock
full of pennies, terrorizing a subway full of passengers until
a Puerto Rican woman calmly sat down. He called her
a whore and she calmly said, "yo breath stinks. You needs
a tic tac." And he calmed down.