Sixty Six Equals Six(Papa Chip)

1)66=6!
2)66=6!!
3)6=6,
4)6=6,
5)66=66!
6)~666.
7)~6.666666….
8)66!
9)6!
10)66=6.
11)66=6;
12)66=6.
13)3+3=6,
14)3+3=6.
15)33+33=66…
16)6=66=
17)66=6!
18)6…?
19)3..?
20)6!6!6!6!6!, 60?
21)0;…

The Brutalist

When surveying the populace, the poulticed. 
When lithely seeking little, then some.
When listlessly supine with genetic preference.
When so exhausted.

Then I compost elegies for energy. 
Then I gulp-up n’up-at a purpling rum serum. 
Then I beat root and inhale expansive post-portions.
Then I wall-mutter Hallelujahs, calling on miracles for minutiae.

All while intervening between fists!

And how I finally surmise a pre-Colombian sonrisa;
and how once disparate enough for fading begun.
And how laughing at America,
and the million maps of its sociologists—

I can’t desist;
replete.

For whom I reconsider resurrected cognates.
For which I step froggily acrost black steamy death below.
For whose spirit is suffused
of echo
of sapphire vocals—

For them I reel! For them I reel!

By which entertainment licked in Leger-like tubular shade.
By what edible coloring adjacent-to the pecked-at popular.
By freckling-why when slight and endeared. Why?

By sculpting consciously an open-circle epistemic dis-ease!

Now,
Hebraic-toothed,
I believe.

Now
rendering ash,
in perforations.

Now line miming
no-

Buddha’s quarters.

Now, is it the upturned mien before?

Now notchless,
a re-capitated grave.

Now barring this—

My lone winged
still-agile
biography,

my all thankful for,

but not,
penultimate yet.

‘Derivation’ is not ‘Murder’

‘She’ is of a type
‘He’ is of a type
‘I’ am of a type
‘typical’ thoughts

‘Marx’ is but marks
‘lines’ are but lines
‘print’ is but print
‘writerly’ writing

‘speech’ is silent
‘words’ inaudible
‘volume’ undetectable
‘voice’ unimaginable

‘God’ does not really exist
‘Buddah’ is nothing much
‘Jesus’ has no tears
‘Mohammed’ is sightless

‘America’ is tiny
‘Russia’ has no weather
‘Israel’ isn’t ‘Palestine’ and
‘Jacob’ ain’t not ‘Israel’

‘Shakespeare’ can’t write
‘Dylan’ sure can’t sing
‘Beethoven,’ DEEF? uh-uh
‘Ginsberg’ is not dead

‘Ma’ don’t nurture
‘Pa’ don’t neither
‘Family’ don’t read
‘Jared’ will never be a poet