i want to be an amiri baraka poem. filled with fire and intensity of vision and the power of understanding history. the exigency of the economy of words. i want to soak myself in gin and play with matches until the whole world fills with the scent of burning hair and i am rendered timeless in bones. i want to be more than a photograph or a memory or those fucking wishes you spew that make me want to scratch off my skin with butter knives. i want to be an untranslatable answer phone message and Jean Toomer's (un)broken arcs.


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