“Singular with No Angles”

Up and coming I slashed and I gashed

I fought so hard til I lost all my cash

But the power of love was greater than wrath

I faltered, I fiddled, I was tumid and fat

I sweated, I teardropped, humidity’s bath

Screaming for you to touch me in a real way

Beaming for a stare in a feel way

Who will save my surrealist soul

Congealed and sealed with her teal of rolls

Clipped in a slip with her heels of gold

As I shake and I shiver and I reel from the cold

Recognizing intent not to be truthful

Gartering her next countess of rubles

She wrote me a poem, sang me a tune

Played with my soul and banged me to ruin

Asked for a ring, and asked me for jewels

When all that I fed for was a loving just spoon

So I guarded myself, I waited in purgatory

I ingested myself, praying for a murder story

Couldn’t dance, Couldn’t prance, no turgid to quarry

Found out real love has been purged up by glory

Just wished for raw desire, attraction, devotion

Just wished for a flicker in the end of the quotient

Rooms full of people, smiling and shaking my hand

Telling me they love me, with lace in their gland

But still the presence of isolation where I stand

I worry for you, even when you think I don’t, I always remember

And Yet I’m Only Singular with no angles, so I can sleep at night

Where is your call?

Where is your letter?

Are you alive?

Why don’t you speak?

Why don’t you write?

Why don’t you anything?

Just reach. And hope.


No Angles.




Before the permanent Silence.

— Christopher C. Brown

inspired by those who touched me in the past who I pray for every day and can never ever forget

(with a pencil. at Z’otz 5/31/08)