2016 was the year of trauma. Prince died. Muhammad Ali…
honey boy, honey boy
you’re a demigod, honey boy:
a refrain of affirmation
though dulcet still
you’re just human
learn not to rely on sight
because it’s only clear too late, looking back
follow the scent trails your past lives left
to find the primordial behind your memory
what you need is vision and maybe
that’s how you lost track of questioning
everything, about your creations,
too busy trying to make a statement
but you are compassionate and clement
content with your worlding
you empathize with those heavenly bodies
sewn together by dogma and myth
though where the two meet they typically don’t
mix so you hold them tight with honey, boy
you see it’s less tacking more fusing
honey less saccharine more musing
you’re a semi-god, honey boy:
repeat the spell until it lingers after you’ve gone
but you really can’t afford to wait
for the magic to happen
things are tough in this economy—
the words don’t come like they used to
there is no speech to describe
a being without context
nothing for those without
whose only vocation is language
you put in your morning coffee, to help you
get through the days that pass too slow
though you know you’ve got to work
for your honey, boy
if you want to catch any flies
now ask yourself
if your poems suffer
for you or if they simply suffer
you and your buzzing
your Pandora’s box, a swarm
you are more than your chaos, honey boy:
a chant to bring you calm
so be careful not to drown
like an insect stuck in your honeyed tongue, boy
it might not be too bad of a storm though,
people are quite polite about the weather
at most it’s inclement, unmerciful
say it’s raining cats and dogs
instead of saying you can’t see
for all the raging in you that you just can’t forgive
and the flood is frustration, resentment inundates
but legends too suffer through the dog days
so pleasure in your skin
humming like sunset honey
boy have faith in your shining
and your combs will be full
of the sacrifice you can’t yet savor
yes, you may struggle to wade
through the clingy excess
of verbiage and ritual so that in the end
of this litany you will believe
in your sweet invocation
so if you have something to say
say it with honey
boy if there’s nothing to say think back
to how that nectar tasted
you are your own worship, honey boy:
recite this when the skies run out of testimony