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.