Quantum Prose/Language

Night.It rained.He stood in front of the brownstone. It was like a movie, he waited for her to come down and open the door. Let him in, like a wolf into the fold. That wasn't him though he wished it were as Minus the Bear's 'White Mystery' played steady in his ears. The clack clack of the door jostled him out of his reverie. " You just gonna stand there and get wet."

She stood in the doorway waiting for him. "I'd rather it were you then me." He smirked. She smirked back "Get in here." She pulled him by his moist leather jacket, as bass keys from Childish Gambino's 'Heartbeat' began to play. They walked up the rickety stairs narrow stairs that sighed as pressure was applied from the soles of his feet. The smell reminded him of his dads old apartment, old wood and maple syrup. The door was open and she motioned for him to take off his boots and hang up his jacket. He responded in kind as she walked into the kitchen and came back with two small white porcelain cups and a bottle of peach Sake. The only alcohol he ever touched, she wanted him loose, eased of tension. She poured the clear liquid into the cups and they toasted, to them. Taking a sip she put her cup down and went into her bedroom, returning a second later with a leather bound note book, an elastic band was keeping it closed and the tassel was wedge between two pages near the end. She opened it carefully ,sliding the elastic band off slowly, delicately. Prelude to a strip tease he thought. She leafed through the pages examining them intimately with her thumb and forefinger. He felt something rising in his chest, spinning clockwise, sliding slowly in all directions like light breaking across shadow. She slid her fingers between the binding and the tassel removing it carefully and slowly, the image of removing panties flashed a crossed his frontal lobe and he was instantly ready. She locked eyes with him then began to read, a poem something long and sweet. He more felt it than heard it, he felt her intent. He shifted and took off his shocks, they were damp and uncomfortable as the air became hot.He hadn't took his eyes off of her and even still she seemed less clothed she looked up at him, hunger there in her eyes, no not hunger something else. Something older, something primal sensual and knowing, inviting and subduing. "And it came like r-r-rapid fire," She rolled her r's Spanish girls he thought, while smiling. By the time she finished they were both sweating , there was a wave in the room that had been stuck on cresting permanently and it begged to crash, longed for it. She smiled her petite frame moving gracefully as she put down the book. "Well, don't leave me in suspense."She looked like a child waiting to be scolded. "It was... I felt it." For a writer words failed him at the wrong times. Emotion took over, her weight on the couch broke his his thoughts up like a cookie in milk. Small girl with a legendary ass she told him once. He chuckled in spite of himself. "What's so funny." She looked at him perplexed and half expectant. He smiled ."You." He said communicating lip to lip. He bit her bottom lip like a signature and she responded in kind. Her shirt was open in a moment and his hands massaged the small golden brown globes of her chest.He kneaded them and the nervousness that usually precluded the act had never appeared for him, there was something to be savored in the peach sake flavored kisses. Something smooth and bass ridden like a song that made you want to slide right in...to whatever it was you were doing. What he was doing or about to, just so happened to be her. His buttons snapped apart,she'd liked him in the shirt. Her pants slid off just as easy, the couch would do, the bed was too far at least he thought so, but he asked anyway. "Why ruin the mood Hero." Her nickname for him on account that his main dish was comics. The dance ensued, the tangle of limbs the 'beast with two backs' Shakespeare called it. Didn't seem like a beast to him, It was more like Sarte's being and nothingness. The moment, movement and momentum, the wash of sensory perception, the oscillating angles and the staccato sound of joining again, again, againnnnnnn....she sang a high note so beautiful it cracked the sky. The wave crashed dashing the the thoughts of sadness and the mundane, but consequently crushing the same euphoria that washed away those negative thoughts. Numb they were shaking, numb they were sated, numb they were nothing. They sloughed to the bedroom, when they lie down the bed hummed lightly as if to say finally I'm being put to use. The Devil that was daybreak woke him. She slept on his chest, her favorite pillow. He shifted under her and lay her head down on the goose feathers, the bathroom like a walk in closet with a claw foot bathtub. He looked at himself in the mirror, his dreadlocks were unkempt and he would need to shave soon. He'd been back home for a week and things had metamorphosed into a strange cocktail of physical intimacy and an atavistic need to immerse himself in the culture of his hometown. That coupled with the pursuit of his writing career sat on his shoulders like a specter that wouldn't let go. All of this formed in his head spilling from his subconscious mind flowing one into the other, folding like the the language of photons forming into a sort of quantum prose.He didn't want to feel like he failed for coming back home, but having lived on his own had made him hungry for an upgrade.Living at his mother's house was not what he was trying to do for the remainder of his life. He splashed water on his face and tried to piece together the fragments of yesterday while contemplating tomorrow's future. His mind worked like that. It was an montage of rolling words made of colors on a background of sounds. This was the difference between living, life, existing in it and surviving it. This was life for him and he would need to embrace it and enjoy it, like all tomorrow's parties.

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The Sanga

When I was in college I was a Buddhist, I studied it and even had the chance to go on a retreat (But it fell through). One of the tenets that I took from it was the idea of the Sanga, which if I remember correctly are the companions you gain on your way to enlightenment. I write that to shout out my crew.

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Wolves like them

I want to be cold as the winter's moon. I want to be as uncaring as the the seas in the midst of a hurricane. I wish to be as intense as the fires of the sun. I wish to be a wolf like them. Tearing out hearts and leaving them where they lay. I wish I was born with a black heart, destroying souls and ruining lives. I wish sometimes I was like my father. The man was a rake in pain but he had fun hiding it.

15 Comments

Exhibit A: The Transformation.

I'm f**kin done. I'm tired of compromising and I'm tired of being made out to be some kind of villain because I don't want to share, you especially when I promised you'd never have to share me...Even when I couldn't help falling hopelessly maddeningly in love with you while she was in the same room. I battled that and even left your life because I was afraid of mistakes I might make and the wrongs I might do. But now that I'm back and free and ready to give you all of me to wait for you...You tell me you want me to share...The shining one was right...and now I see what turns gentlemen into wolves...wolves who run rampant on your kind...I was born a wolf...from the loins of a wolf...but yet I chose my heart and became a man instead...when I am closets to that Alpha male that I had come from...but yet you all seem to want to see this gentleman a wolf again...I see that now...I tried to be good... but nice guys finish last...and wolves strip the meat from their bones...testament one...I told you what my totem was...now you decide to try me and see how far to grandmother's house you could get...jokes on you "sweetie" (as you so emphatically called me) You can't have your cake and eat it too...but a broken heart will make a nice snack...I'm about to reach the stars from the earth...and because I can't accept this I'm changing it...I did so think your words were clever...always the clever young lady...but they can be sent back with poison at their tips aimed at that heart that had held my own...I've always measured cost of things...but this I'll give for free...Maybe now I'll see you never.

5 Comments

The Amazing...Sensational...No Spectacular prayer of Nelo Maxwell

Of all the prayers I could write down. I’m a bit disappointed that its this one. To not care. Not care when she talks to him on the phone…or that she’s not being honest about it…or that she owes me nothing…or that they talk about sex and she laughs at his jokes…and that at some point they’re probably mocking me…I want to not have dreams about fighting over women…I want to have dreams about making art…My craft is my only grace from these things…People are completely unreliable for good things…but bad shit is easy to predict…I am talented and I’d love to live in the notion that my art is all I need…that no more is required…That I will be fine without… God I wish I could be fine without…I’m tired of shit seeming so simple and easy for others…but so damn stressful for me and mine…what’s that about? Who says all suffering is sweet? Sadists probably…I am not by any stretch of the imagination asking for much. Just to reach into my own mind and turn off the switch that cause me to care about what she does and who she does it with…I want to not care…I also want to be fair in my choices…endurance…strength young man she said…and I intend to take that either to heart or to the grave…but let my art exist as a testament to my difference…my uniqueness to my…extraordinary…uncanny talents that are both amazing and spectacular… Real initials are RR…and my sister in law says I remind her of Peter Parker…Let’s hope she’s right.

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What I'd like to see for Luke Cage in the Future

I was thinking that Luke Cage's wife should die and he should be made a single father. Then he should visit Isaiah Bradley for some kind of guidance and become the new Truth, then Patriot should become his side kick. That would allow him to have his own book as Marvel's favorite Black Man and touch on his super soldier roots, he might also be able to get into the Tuskegee experiments their long term effects and the treatment of people of color in the American prison system.

2 Comments

The Wolf...The Man...The Hero...The Dreamer

I’m gonna lose you…After freeing up myself of the restrains of obsolete coupling. I’ve finally allowed myself ….to be…where we needed us to be…And you’ve decided to make no compromises…just so we could have us all to ourselves…even if we are 1000 miles away and neither of us sleep alone all the time…We got ourselves where we needed to be for us…And now in spite of myself… in spite of my screaming in the face of providence…saying “I will not surrender, I will have what I want!”…as the wolf…or the man…the hero…or the Dreamer, for you know I am all of those…I am going to lose you…and In providences face all I can do is laugh manically like the melancholy clown whose joy and sorry share one expression ... I get the joke and It’s not funny anymore…and It never was.

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