Breakthrough

Today is September 27 and it's any other day the world is ending the dog is barking

such is the such I want to tell (this) I had a dream last night (lost) in which the poet was reading

from a printed page in some sort of spite for women's rights the same word over and over it was as if

she did it on purpose not to be good not to do well not to be Gertrude not to do well for herself it was

all kind of swill and quick and unthought and I think I dreamed this woman because I graded

the last of the papers last night and saw the grammar mistakes not worth making let me tell (this)

those mistakes glaring. I am not one to criticize a mistake when I see it if I believe it is justified in that

kind of mistake-y way when we are young and bold and walking razor thin planetary lines across

the universe of ourselves and sometimes burning or slipping or choking up no these mistakes

were not that kind they were not cosmic not bright not sweet not hard not true they were dumb

plain and dumb as parking lots in mid-May town of twenty Wal Mart dumb processed meat dumb

the kind of dumb that spawned social media out of last resort kind of dumb put a comma in the wrong

place not on purpose kind of dumb spellcheck dumb not looking at spellcheck dumb I couldn't look

any more without tearing the paper and getting real angry so I took my steam outside and lit a

thing of paper and sucked it so there I was. Feeling dumbed down and wrong for believing ever

in the generation preceding ever this mess won't clean won't clean all of it gone down to sit in the

sewer somehow unhappily — And then a call from my brother

who at 17 tells me the trees bluffed cold weather and snow in Mississippi the first time ... who tells me

cold chicken and canine teeth clinging to UV ray by the waist ... who tells me I am dumb and bored

a spoiled little bitch clinging to life from a camera cooking noodles making raps in the basement ...

brother I love you O god I love you o Brother I love you O god I love you take us home