MINDSOCKET
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Stories (8/0)
the bird
You have not left the cage of my mind. A bluebird figurine come alive now restless, perhaps a bundle of canary yellow plumage (bright bold as a sunflower), boney wings and feather displays. Circling airborne, round and round, a fury of color, weightlessly ferociously pacing. Constrained yet soaring: the space given. I am amazed at how you soar in a space so small. Soar soar soar! Incessant shifting perspective, your movement, my eyes struggle to keep pace - hear sight taste smell touch cage freedom cage freedom cage - and I wonder if there is any difference at all: (is being caged unknowing of freedom’s burden?) Sometimes, briefly, the cage in my mind is cloaked in an all-too-thin yellowing veil of distracted thought, the shadow of wings and the ferocious trail of fascia muscle air bone blood emerge through shadow from below. Air occupied by swarming, twisting, tumultuous essence. Air within and without. Here and there, air air air. Tornadoes of just-been, not-leaving, and trapping (you’re ceaselessly banging/brandishing/bullying the metal entrapments against my inner cranium, how it rings!) -- dogged dogged trappings. This cage in my mind.
By MINDSOCKET4 years ago in Poets
Dear George Floyd,
George Floyd, I’m breathing fire, the air my body is taking in right now. Carbon dioxide, nitrogen, oxygen, that flows into my lungs, coaxed inside from the downward vacuum pull of my diaphragm. The flubbing of my heart, continuing to pound, giving me Life, feeding my grieving body. I am not particularly worthy of this air; it belongs, as all atoms do, to the World, to the Things, to Us, to everything of, with, and by the World. And yet, a World in which Human Worth, Black male human worth, has to be fought for. A social World, fucked up: violating, killing, raping, murdering, harming non-(White, male, cis-gendered, heteronormative, citizen, wealthy) bodies from which it elementally consists.
By MINDSOCKET4 years ago in The Swamp
to Anxiety :
you crawling, nagging, tsunami of single-minded insects ; iron hooks latching on to underside of skin, tugging lightly, slightly, abrasively deadly, calculable to unconscious, unforgiving, euthanasic mind-numbing ; raging mountain of a wave, salt mines spit-it-out spit-it-out, walking into a hallway of steel-strength spiderwebs ; multi-legged beast -- invisible, light-footed, tickling like air, hair on end, muscles unnoticeably constantly constantly gracefully Tight ; stomach sack tensing, churning, scissors cutting hunger cues, slicing wind popping laundry lines, homemade ice cream rolling in a bag, stomach enzymes tossed at will, the anger of a deep ocean ; a spellbook of craving, compulsing, corroding -- repeatedly twisting potions concocting newness, secrecy, disguise ; an identity-shifter, mask-wearer, master-liar, deceiver, unquenchable thirst, doggedly motivating muscle, moving mind, let me be, let me be : nocturnal juggler, camera clicking, compilation strobe light, blinking blink bli- bubbling over, heating cooling sweating shivering body mind body mind body mind -- jumping rope, ping-pong match, oil in water, black and white, divider ; foundational quicksand, unstable launchpad, omni-directional pull push tug tear, hamster wheel of muscle ; a hazy day, heavy mist, eyes closing blinding storm, solitude, embarrassment, secrecy : curiosity, opponent, wonder, enemy ; bridge to nowhere, Alice’s dark hole, ant hill mound, abandoned beehive, polluted river, chemistry explosion, second hand tick ticking away ; predator of love, preying on fear, feeding on shame
By MINDSOCKET4 years ago in Poets
a THING
oof n’goop : conglomerate-entity-blob. plopping i want to push it out, birthing impossibility -- an extraction, dissection, plucking with tweezers, the exactness of a ginormous THING. right from organs/intestines/inner-goo, dripping drop-by-drip dissolvable-powered stomach acid, emanating ripe rancid smells smoke stank gaseous liquids solids, radioactive with privacy: personal, embarrassing body-gloop.
By MINDSOCKET4 years ago in Poets
(a) dangerous story
“Get yourself out of whatever cage you find yourself in” -John Cage (Nelson 54). Muffled screams vibrate under the weight of my fatty boobs, who assert their authority. Weight is relative. Sweat, like raindrops rolling down the windshield of Their sportscar, caress their way around, aided by the gentle fingertips of gravity, into the crease, skin-on-skin, between my breasts and stomach. It’s like being stuck under a pile of snow. Frozen, immovable, suffocating, the sweat under my boobs. Fuck, on days like this I feel like I can’t breathe. Or is it just the Florida humidity?
By MINDSOCKET4 years ago in Viva
i have never been in love
When they mistakenly choose a thing over you, the quivering of your heart, a ferocious trembling in the crisp dryness of winter. The moment of temptation, a trackless tunnel into their eyes, reflecting a mirror of desire & conflict. That temptation is not towards you.
By MINDSOCKET4 years ago in Poets
1924
Maybe I’m obsessed with validation and purpose. A needle is in my stomach. It pokes me periodically. Where are you from, poke. What is your purpose, poke. Who is your family, poke poke. I asked Them, the two relatives who would know family history, for a deeper understanding of the bodies, beings, minds, occupations, preoccupations, histories of my family. I asked Them for traditions. I asked Them for ethnicities. I asked Them for hometowns and cultural practices and stories. I want flesh and blood. I want answers. I want identity.
By MINDSOCKET4 years ago in The Swamp