by LJ Frank
trust is beguiling
like a word game of scrabble
filled with mutual exposures
online or in the flesh
both can be creatively
disinforming
even when worthy of pursuit
for I may have known them for years
but we evolve
within our mind’s contexts
and the translation
of our individual language of existence
identification arrives in many forms
as the specific other(s) merely become
an extension of “I”
and still others are redefined
by ritualistic oaths and pride
Fear is a priceless commodity
no room for doubt
when in need of a father figure
but patriarchy is out of its depth
stuck in its own muck
while matriarchy appears in a labyrinth
seeking both an exit and entrance
a foreboding may permeate the air
until I look from a different angle
and an angular vision suggests
one hundred on the bill
is really a one dollar note
angularity instills complexity
to our interpretations of sight
the hair style and clothes
and fashionable mechanics of movement
an outward appearance of belonging
in actuality is the politics of the opaque
like drawing a map in the sand
that will change shape
with an evening breeze
and to ask
where are “You” truth
feels disingenuous
holding a mixed drink in hand
sitting under a palm tree
and massaging one’s feet in the sand
while a vulture stands in stillness
waiting for the death of a child
the levers of control are suppressed
intellectual no longer truly efficacious
and a person shields his eyes
the brightness emanating from his machine
counting receipts from investments
and experts sprout in the pastures of greed
dandelions of influence
and identity enters the dwelling
filtered through its knowledge
crowded in a tunnel
of a narrow minute’s passageway
seeking its version of meaning
through time’s subtle architecture
and the politicized geography of culture
and nuanced affection.