SNOW DAY HONEYMOON
(original appearing as part of the play
“ST 1.O” produced by New Galaxy Productions)
Today a storm has
saved the day
I spend that grace
with a fresh angelic face
turn to picnic baskets:
cookies and cashews
croissants with fresh preserves
and your infectious giggle
Doors bolted by snow
windows boarded up with ice
I shutter to think of the frigidness
between the Frigidaire
and the body heated
warm noses on bare skin
from lambs wool
your fire place
my stick of incense
Make love fully canvassed
in cashmere comforters
speckled light sprinkles us
like stars in the skies of Cancun
We lay out as if sun baked
lightly seasoned in sea salt
marinated in rioja
sautéed in suspense
of new found infatuation
then spritzed with freshly squeezed
Furloughed by nature's reprieve
our winter solstice
summer vacation type
spats of Olympic sex
lighting up the day
as if the 4th of July
Eventually emotions blossom,
change, then Fall
when feelings change colors
Yes, seasons will pull back the covers
until then, I'll enjoy our Snow Day
tanned by your smile
vowing nothing, but all of my now.
-Snow Day Honeymoon is featured in Circumlocution Vol. II
As distinctive as it was, no one noticed it
I wait for someone to reunite with it
No one does, so I walk close enough to read the cover
I’m curious about autobiographies,
but intrigued by journals
the untouched snapshot of a five sense
whose journal would you read
if you could read but one?
I’d read Jesus’ journal
a Nazarene carpenter’s would be 1/10 as literate as Waka Flocka claims to be,
but his pop's coulda just flipped a switch like Morpheos
downloading God’s version of Word Perfect to Neo
Imagine the ease of editing Jesus’ autobiography
NO fact check,
or spell check.
It would be blinding to read after a while, every word would be in red.
We reverence words once they are written
War is waged over the existence of a word
'Til the dictionary anoints it
Words attempt to describe
But never decide
grammar be damned
I pick up the book
Hand bound cover
a visionary artisan had salvaged
the ruins of something grand
and left parts of their life inside of it
The temptation grows to read it
At least to see who’s signature is on it.
The signing of your name is a historical ripple
Especially when adorning arduous,
rhetorical legal type
bonding agreements between men,
and their god
words canonized by song and annual days off
Or the Rorschach test formations
of scripture passed down from
nomadic tribes of the middle east
Each to add their biographical moment
Ideas float around
Philosophies blow in the wind
Nothing adds gravity like saying
“it is written”
we know this, Jesus did not have the time,
understand of its importance.
to write his own story
a miracle birth and a crucifix death, the crux of your very existence
then in exclamation
then under the cruelest of tortures
before being written down
four generations later
giving it the creditability of a community poem
I love community poems
Simple standard pages stapled
turned to parchment
as it is passed through the congregation
each adding their psalm
a five sense
one mind emotion
shared by the masses
the book is screaming at me like the tell-tale heart now
mad at myself, for being mad at myself
for wanting to know what I should not know
but there are things I need to know
mere accounts of Jesus disappear between his ages of 12-30
you know how many questions I have for 13 ear old Jesus?
when did he realize his divinity?
How did he interact with his friends?
Did his body ever fail him?
Did he have acne or diarrhea?
…How did 13 year old Jesus handle morning wood?
No matter how he handled it, it was perfect.
Did he toss and turn, try to think about baseball or his grand parents?
Did he just say “peace be still”?
I feel betrayed by being held back from the power
he could have imparted this word
with just a few journal entries
bronze age tweets on tablets
by now I have picked up this journal, and have determined to read it
What up Bomani! You are now reading God’s journal. Not Jesus. His father. God
(flip the page)
don’t be shocked but every single page you turn to will take you to exactly the part of my journal I want you to read
(flip the page)
I heard your
About the ridiculidified version of my biography that is
I know you only have a minute and 5 seconds left so I’m going to skip around to the good parts.
Day 1: I’m bored.
Day 100 million: I went to see the people of Jericho today. They have a new god now, he ain’t even cute. I wish they where dead!... ooops
Day 3billion 85million 211thousand 32: I was chillin with Beelzebub today, just shooting the breeze. He dared me to mess up job’s life. I’m cool with Job, but the devil kept saying “I betchu he will curse you, I betchu! You not gonna test’em? Why not? You scared? I dare you, I double dog dare you!” There we where, to deities throwing rocks into traffic. What else was I suppose to do?
March 3, 1BC: I finally decide to try this sex thing out that I gave to these humans. I decided to make it interesting. I went and impregnated a Jewish virgin, without even telling her. I sent my messenger later to inform her, and left her and her betrothed to explain herself to community that would stone her for sex before marriage…per my request. We’re gonna have a son. This will be interesting
Now: I am talking to you, I am always talking to you. Don’t ever trust a book that was supposedly written by me, if it has an ending.
-The Journal is featured in Circumlocution Vol. II
Moment of Silence
-Moment of Silence is featured in Circumlocution Vol. II
-SupermanBatman is featured in Circumlocution Vol. II