accompanying collages by ANAÏS POURROUQUET

THE REST IS NOW (take 22)

“The current climate in Inner City Innermind is 
dangerously vague… Current population in Inner City Innermind is 
almost infinite… Typical inhabitants’ ages vary from pre-birth to 
imagined ancientness-

-On your left, lotused in those vast Redwood mountains, drizzled with 
fragrant Maples, wet Eucalyptus & sappy Ferns- 
We believe it’s best that you look out for various Maliks, pre-birth to around 22

If you ever happen to find “a Malik” over 22 mind-years-old,
lurking suspiciously in those dense drenched woods 
weaving between the faint aroma of Black & Milds & Beedies driftin’
from that smokey quartz cave densely packed with
depressed teenagers, free-stylin’ forest spells & smokin’ kryptonite,
boomboxes blastin’ Cube’s “Endangered Species”-on rewind, loopin’-
Those all-too-new-to-memorize-parental-advisory-advised lyrics but still, 
cursing in unison inside that proud choir (cacophony of curses harmonizin’ until a sudden cassette-change to) 
Miles & Gil or Duke & Ella or Mingus & Dolphy morphs 
young bloods into personifications of Milarepa, until
Steppenwolf & Enkidu carefully creep pass Anyawu, Doro-ing
inside that clear eyed cyclops, holdin’ its breath, listening close as thread to spool for
any detuned chakras resonating through all that thick Black & Mild air as Brotha Lynch Hung blasts, 
“Walkin’ To My Funeral” then “Season Of The Siccness” then “Situation On Dirty”- WE INTERRUPT THIS 

If ever ,you happen to encounter a Malik, who’s over 25 but under 77-mind-years-old, 
immediately inform a teenage Malik, who can’t help but 
appear threatening- even if he accidentally grins at your gaze, instinctively intimidating you-
please pay no mind to his various stereotypical cloaks of self defense-

On 2nd thought-
Please, for your own safety, don’t bother any of the Malik’s,
they’re all suffering from
severe institutionally programmed violent youth disorder- 
you know what eye mean?
Ever since all those Fall-Out-War-On-Drugs-Shelters collapsed from 
being too packed for too long with Malik & all his murdered friends
(not a single murderer ever found, convicted or specifically suspected)...
Careful around all those Maliks under 27 years young, most of ‘em Gangbang, Invisibility 
(they’re still in denial about their dysfunctional paranoia of
so-called blank-amerikkkan-men in uniforms & suits)
desperately disappearing at the threat of 
bored bounty hunters slangin’ stolen organs & 
branding slogans on every inch of their fragile turtle shells...
As blank-faced new age mystics claim they’ve evolved beyond color.

Current climate in inner-city inner-mind’s tremblin’ 
as colorless forests remain, Just Fine as another inferno continues
ash-raining on sizzling’ Redwoods, Eucalyptus ignite & burning Maples bleed turquoise sap 
meanwhile, Elder Hermit Malik takes to the streets campaigning,
seekin’ all those younger terrified Malik’s to
polish up their petrified pineal glands while carefully interrogating them about
their rumored allegiances to recent violent inner-revolutions that left 
thousands of Malik’s martyred…

Please, for your own safety, keep an attentive eye out for
those maimed Malik’s sculptures in Martyr’s Square 
Located @ the corner of 33rd Street & Honest Obsidian Boulevard 
Please offer your offerings at the street corner altars or 
take a sincere silent moment to acknowledge their endless genocide- 
but whatever you do under no circumstance do not, eye repeat
Do not attempt to film, record or photograph them
The last one who tried to was eaten alive by 5 Veridian eyed infants with 
ravenous appetites for surprised racist flesh.

Interruption 37

                behind every toxic man there are…
                More toxic men that are even more toxic

HECKLERS in my head!

                Please, for the grace of Grandma’s Imagination
                Give us a clue into just exactly how long
You plan to interrupt our difficult attempts at thinking clearly?

ASSASSINS in my mind! 

                Sharpen your blades on my eyelashes
                Carve your boulders on my tongues’ tip
                Shave your blood diamonds on my jagged indium ribs

                Grafitti Big Mamma Thorton & Charlie Patton limericks in my
         hickory flesh (Preferably in Arahmaic & Meter Neter)
So, the cruel winds of men’s minds can’t translate my gestures


Richard Pryor & Richard Wright leisurely lean on
the crumblin’ wall of a burnt-out runaway hideout
Waitin’ for them folks in those badge sheets to
reconsider their DeLorean chariot, illegally parked just in front of them...
Inside it, the Flux Capacitor reads December 31st 1922, Rosewood

A crisp yellow stick-it note hanging underneath the screen reads
“Upgrades are available for Immediate Download”
Wright & Pryor download Northstar GPS & Swift Vehicle Transformers
Soon as they press ACCEPT, their innocuous chariot glitches-into an Onyx Submarine, Pryor coins it, A.A.= Anyanwu Ahab.
Wright answers the blinking alert, “Urgent New Message! New mission!”
Which reads,
Abort all previous missions- your presence’s required at a demure bugged hotel room in Memphis, united states date-April 3rd, 1968

Top Secret Inverted Mission [Censored sections]

If ever, you find yourself in InnerCity InnerMind & you have the time

We recommend you take a left on 110th @ Duke Ellington’s monument
Square up & proceed down to that enormous statue of
Fredrick Douglass gracefully hovering above the shoulders of Mumbet & her celestial wings
Look ‘cross the street & you’ll find Us at Father Divine’s Cafe
Me & Richard Pryor still celebratin’ that early sunny Saturday morning, 
sittin’ easy, with our two espressos each, in separate cups
Reflectin’ on The Limits Of Control
Adjusting our thin Moroccan Scarves disheveled Dumas’ afros
Rollin’ Drum, smokin’ Drum & waitin’ on James Brown & Wright- (Who’re never late, especially on
Harlem Date, November 6th 2008) 
Yerp, we sincerely chillin’ until another urgent alert ripples from our espressos
Warning Us that your exhausted Delorian disguised as an invisible illegally parked bus
is suffering from an unpreventable danger
Rich’ fronts the bill & we run to our DeLorean bus, whose front door abruptly slams shut, engine hollers &
Through the windshield we witness an excited Donald take off
while flippin’ us the bird… 
We haven’t seen Our DeLorean since,
& The Rest Is Now


In my sincerely sensitive inner city
Which is the majority of my known-mind
Oakland, Berkeley, San Francisco & East Palo Alto
Are locked in a perpetual ten year loop
‘87 to ’97... Some of the more astute inhabitants
Have recently got hip to the program-
Night after night at open mics in petrified-third-eye cafes
Clogged, corner to corner stone, with conspiracy conductors
Who, on break between sets blow indium smoke & telepathically transmit
Insights they’ve recently gained about my oppressive regime & our
omniscient ethnically ambiguous narrators...
Every now & then, my inner surveillance drones pick up on their inverted chatter
Some of them, we beam up
Interrogate & send back to Our inner-earth
Blacked out on their kitchen floors they awake groggy & disappointed 
“They got me, again…?”
Meanwhile, crosstown in the introverted-innercity of myImagination
Moms Mabley & Dick Gregory plant
Silver mountains that Toni Morrison delicately plucks
While carefully singing to their jagged cliffs “Eye see you, we see you, we feel you, we know your ambitious frustration better than we know blank folks. Our dear brother, Ralph.”
Meanwhile, out in the fringes of deep innerspace, 
Dark Matter nudges AntiMatter to “Snap another’n for immortalGRAM.
#Let-it-be-known-we-be-on-our-forbidden-emotions, cloaked
between all too visible ancestors always on they spiritPhones
Refusing to eat any meat not raised by their people on their own farms-
Dig! Keep your eyes on the marzipan Buddha with its head bitten off
by veridian eyed, black dolls with sticky glazed grins…

& the Rest Is Now (aREMINDER)

as Eye’m sure you already know...
The New Yin & Yang is
Artificial Intelligence & Artificial Imagination
But what about all of Us from Generation Keep It Real
Who unfortunately fell asleep nestled in that 20th Century V.R. of keepin’ it Violently Real
Having now arose to artificial dreams
Accidently experienced by bulging sacks of benign crystals
Smuggled in by those Boys From Brazil
Killed over by oldtime human traffickers
Whose main product is still real humans
Whose real organs & genes & humiliating murder scenes
Serve as antidotes for ancient royal machines, kept alive by
prehistoric cults, devoted to removing spiritual-bodies from minds stained with newly modified disgrace-
Invert that, then sale souls by the centimeter in international markets at artificial prices
As Brother Tulip out of fluorescent frustration proclaims,

“We all know this ain’t nothin but another poem
Full of artificial conclusions inspired by some artisanal maniacs
Unemployed & refusing to collect anything less than reparations
Always refusing to turn the light on when they brush their bleached teeth,
Can’t bare to see the ivory in their mouths, me neither- Cloak that-
Always refusing to respond to those text messages left on our mirror, every morning after every steamy shower by that silent being who lives
Just on the other-side of our mirrors, rent free & still, complaining.

Another INTERRUPTION 93million

You betta believe, They do Orphic rites for all abused muses
Cobalting about cracked vases full of tulip bulbs, sixth stage developments
   Desperately fleein’ from that diamond studded skull...
a single cerulean flame in each socket
     Sentimentally swaying in a vermillion wind
      That shouldn’t be there, at all
suddenly those tiny crimson pocket clocks fall forward from
each cerulean Flame’s miniscule wrist & drips tiny tourmaline people who are rumoured to still be able to fix any & everything
After you feed them your pride & dreams

Interruption ‘59

What about We
Who linger in looms
Luminiferous ones
Phosphorescent eyes sparklin’
About the gender of colour
Listenin’ to soft-spoken pigments without hearin’ a word
Censoring what we’ve always been
Cuz no one, not even ourselves
Can tolerate another instance of losing 

Another interruption 528

So now, they say, 
you’re 400,000 times
dimmer than our Sun, 
my scarred sacred moon
Divine distance is your perfume

Let’s Do Shots

When dreamers can’t afford to dream
Cuz Imagination’s been evicted by
Anxiety again
So, Imagination pops it’s collar up on it’s tear-proof coat
Roams those wet streets cluttered with vibrant tents, collapsing shacks
Relapsing into deviated caverns calm with teal ideas abandoned
For humiliated hopes & unchallenged fears
Yeah, change comes from within (my friend back in undergrad, used to tell every hobo he encountered when drunk)
But now, we hollered back at him through the sober espresso cups
Mankind will never figure out, how to print cash from their armpits.


You know the ones= Hulk, Kermit, Yoda, Gumby… The Grinch/ No wonder when Rama, Tara or Osiris, Nephytys, Tehuti or Milarepa finally show up/ Every mirror sustains a jade fog/ until tourmaline eyed, Ivy skin, pine haired, fern breath beings, tuRN UP/ beggin’ for filterless cigarettes rolled with dried mosquito wings laced with dragonfly antenna & caterpillar eyes/ lit by a spark from two black opals struck/ At the speed of prayers chasing the speed of curses into a corn field, where Uncle Michael never sings a single note, ever/ & Aunt Dorothy runs into James Brown runnin’ rhythms with those mad-ass munchkins in Arrondissement Me/ until Langston & Bob turn up with Ai & Lucille on the way to Maya’s, carrying yams meditating in pecan syrup, impeccably gratin’d mississippi mac & cheese & You too, dragging along a red wheel barrow stacked full of Eastern Star quilts sown in that old pre-colonial tradition.”

The Isolation Collection

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