That guy in the red t-shirt checking his phone has the gait of someone fallen. In the wild center they wouldn’t kill him because he is just some guy on his phone which means he’s a white guy on his phone which means walk here and here and there it’s good. Go ahead. You’re safe. Still. He’s someone who values the new economy. It’s easy like this. A currency of berries, means something like blood but not blood. Something taken in and turned body black. Money has nothing to do with ducks but everything in the way we use them. Here’s the narrative:
Somewhere deep within this state there is a man who would kill me. First he’ll kill our safe distance. Next he’ll kill my other-where-ness so that only here means only him and this death waiting. First he’ll kill my next-to come. Next he’ll kill the way my words mean more than his words and then again and first thereafter sticky skin and knives and all the teeth scattered there because my face is a ballot and his knife is the campaign against me. You as I always say are not part of this transaction. Here are your directions:
Be messy and loud. Use profanity like sugar. Think of killing like you think of napalm, as a thing of the past and the present we call now. The problem isn’t coming to know. They crave the Other as a specific hunger. They barter the reeds. What does this mean in human language which is not so much a question but a defense. In the midst of this as though midst could be an ever-present way we frame the –ism, he’s just another man which means he is just another man who may kill me or may not kill me and so seems lost within the privilege and the act. How much is she worth? Can I buy her? How much would she fetch? Would you buy her? The market drops.
We are as worthless as we imagined after so many years of appreciation and flags. The pond makes revolution better. It stills the love of gunshot. The gun signs our petition to be released. What is the narrative of lost trajectories? How do I tell you my pockets are empty? My debit card is declined. My wants are everything and nothing as though Borges here could save us. They paid me with a bridge and a creek and a pond and said here body, here body, here body. Let’s see you.
The protesters shout Go Away. Go Away America. Go back to your bloody start. Go to your horse, your field, your chains. The patriarchy is made of flagstone and bricks. Politic began with wheat. What waste do you enjoy which I mean not so much as a question but as an assault. We are caged within this wind regardless. Here’s your narrative:
The wild inner-ness has no honor which means, it kills more than it can eat. This other guy, the one with no home, he stands on the bridge I was paid with and looks at the koi because he looks at himself less often. In seeing he thinks direction thinks bewildered. His end is not obvious but made. Eventually, the pond yields a stink unwarranted. You mean a manifesto of sleeping. The market smells of sex and paper money. Sour dirt. My arm costs less than my legs. What you steal from me, what you steal from me makes the debt between us shudder. Here’s what you owe:
Un-product the plains. Un-slaughter the us of you and them. We are who they are. Are you surprised now at the depravity? The honest want of more than enough of what we need to need and have forgotten, no, what we need to need and remember then forget every morning. We have. You have. He has. He is a fucking idiot even though he will kill me in such a delicate way his generals think it art, how the slice from my chin to my gut is so clean it barely bleeds at first. You mean a manifesto of fucking which means understand he says we are, each of us, a job. He owns us this way. This is how murder begins and should you want to know more then know murder begins with desire which is the only thing free. How beautiful it has all been and cheap, the massacre, a resource. The autopsy ends in the black. Here’s what you do when the country you live in shits on itself:
Tell them we’re going out to a pond to write the manifesto of how things should begin or how they should end or how the ending and the beginning are their own cartel. Here’s what to do:
Smuggle Canadians over the border. What’s the overhead? Is your loan under water? Is your hope in foreclosure? Carpet bomb the last silos of Nebraska. Now we’re solving patriarchy. You mean a manifesto of flaccid dick. Of glory be. The profit margin goes up. Cunt is only vocabulary. In the midst again is another way to smooth it all over. To somehow make another now without the chilly theft of reason which doesn’t exist in the wood or in the alleys of Hoboken. Blue and Red are both consigned to overdraft the distal end of the body so emptiness there is nowhere to go back to. You mean a manifesto of where to be.
Look at him with his expensive wrench. Dismantle yourself. Your hands cost more than your feet. Your jaw is free with your skull. Lacquer your ribs which are two for one and assemble a chandelier as antlers assembled likewise. Your body is contraband. Your way is inflated. Your will is a recession waiting to happen. Your intellect, fault. Your absence of out there is a trap. If I kill him first, I’ll be what I’m supposed to be. Here are your directions:
Make sure the knife is cheap and dull. Put five dollars between your teeth. Walk through the center of town with your arm in the air, with the knife in your hand, with the money in your mouth. If you have not yet been shot and killed say you will not be. You will not be inventoried. Say you will not be sold. Where there is depravity there is no art because there is no discussion of what rot smell we make. You cannot write yourself out of this. Your body is all you have.
When you cash out at the end of the night your profits say you can kill a man easily with no remorse. You have always known this and say so. You will do it for free. You mean a manifesto of teeth scattered as he would scatter yours. No one will notice that done is done and done means the same as undone. Here are your instructions:
Tell everyone that the revolution is silent so listening is useless. Say “no” most often. Say empty. Now it’s time to go. The sky has fallen as we said it would. You should buy low and sell high. Murder don’t murder how easily it is to do so. Don’t easily do what you can do. You mean a manifesto of unsaying. Don’t so easily be what you’re supposed to be. There are two worlds. Before and After. You are gutted and so in turn undo unready go out in the world out in the world you go and you the gutted will gut.
