by Philip Jenks

 

 

a Chicago

 

feel all

 

there is no looking down 

 

everything is flat flat 

 

no mountain or hill hill

 

not that we don’t have angles.

 

to the contrary said rhetoric architectronic

 

 

 

version1.

 

I’m a land I’m a people

 

I’m a fist and he say u 

 

don come back here, I  shoot u

 

he tol me that so I be coming bak

 

he gots lots of angles on this

 

 

 

<La Eme>

 

visibility is a trap

 

 

 

I’m the verse I’m the steeple

 

across over east Millennium Park

 

flicking sticks and greens 

 

you the skinned them barbarian

 

you trainwreck you starbuck

 

or winey classickal concert park 

 

but you know you know

 

 

 

y’all mista an missus mobbed up o oh okay

 

you hump humbolt in tall buildings

 

 

 

or jack the idea of it.

 

sad sad he got shot on his way home

 

from this place

 

was the driver  maybe for

 

breaking rules. my new daily death threats.

 

there things I cannot tell anyone. 

 

I’m the body I’m the ocean

 

I’m the salt enslaved with spllosions 

 

of plastic bags. a little cut for you and 

 

your lovely nipples.