……………………………………………………………………………….. morning 164

days upon days upon days upon.
the jester enters with triple foward somersaults
only to snarl, "liberation has its limits!"
we hunger for the next degree in the parallels,
our turn at the wheel, our turn to pull the trigger.
the unified verse is all at once,
the unified verse, its tongue in your ear.
we turn towards morning, we turn towards blue…
the sky is a square on the comedian's blouse.
this galaxy has humor. what else could be so dark,
so skeleton-in-a-tuxedo? i'd like to sharpen pencils
for ten grand a month.

sadiq bey