History: a Poem as Process
or History on the Assassination of

Mostly words from Amiri Baraka’s “History as Process” & Nikki Giovanni’s “A Poem on the Assassination of Robert F. Kennedy.” A task: First, an abstraction of syntax born out of resonance (it is ear, Euclid, Pinaceae). Secondly, a translation of sorts through synthesis (folded over) in a chair. Thirdly, another abstraction (this time its lexicon). Lastly (with confidence), a promulgation of sonorous histories and dissonant memories.

1.
The tree’s
evaluations are
of the never felled
mysteries by the
sons. Not
of when

All experience—the fruit
All suffering, if
we be,
call “borne
the light,”
a thing All before the promise.
Men



finger wherever in—not when—there
the cooling,
dark shade,
folds of
the next second yet to comfort.



2. There yet
is to
some diminishing comfort. Yet,
Beauty, we might. There are those
ones.



Scream to—in

some ecology.
Wild

acknowledged Godliness, reality of need.*






It is ax and
this suffering** truth, sharpened saw,
advertised wood.
**in. In
all men’s boots
*Loveliest histories: the step-forth, damaging
thing



3.
There, not
as speed/the tree,
is god as











The Contemplatee.

Soul, what can







in summer




is yet to


never

...
should is

know or fulfilled



has








...
day unheeding,
understand and of nature
indifferent to


...
FIT OF
...





what

...


...

...






for it
mingling falls.
Possibility:




What!? In
the summer’s
freaky, Human heat!?




the beauty






































ignorant

Is who?






















the force. But those,
as simple future, who would


or
roll through ’s winter’s cold
—on
4.
Words not my own. I had to look
through stinging, heavy eyes not my own.
Peeled back, rotten the fruit—
All (capital A) experience. The tree is
felled and always had. No utopia—Bankrupt utopia.
Lacking compassion and I will not listen. I can’t listen.
(A heavy rain burns, unable to put out what flashes in echoed
shapes ahead.)

-nob JULY 2016