Niggas in Raincoats Reprise
I would like to use this craft to fly with him
I feel that saddle the morning after and try — again — warm in the habit of our warning and yearning for more of them until
We finally need to see this reckoning
But when it’s time I’m not ready and when I’m ready it’s not time — that’s fate. And blind in the halo of so-what, so-what, we make it a future
I say, I don’t know who you are. I say, It don’t matter at this point, I do it all for you anyways (long run) — gorgeous photographs of industrial ruins so lush you want to lick them, be them, become a trend. Crushed under the debris, an instrument is so tender it breaks and mends in the same note. Becoming men is like that, degrading, uplifting, denial, lazily caving in Isis and ice until all of our guesses are obsolete we can’t see nobody who isn’t disappearing
Source: Poetry (November 2013).
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This poem originally appeared in the November 2013 issue of Poetry magazine
Poems by Harmony Holiday
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