Notes from a suicide segregated torn down rebuilt highway cutting across the brittle strung out landscape at high speed. All the clocks were ticking,the soldiers in toe. Rummaging through my notes of the last 24 hours seem to never quite climatize into the expected state of frenzy. Instead,a left-turn into common-tread-Shepherd Express territory of Race & Humanity. But where did it all go? If we were all to believe that thread line dangling just out of reach enough to ignore,we’d all be strung up by our Bayview belts in our canopy Oaks. But no. There might have been something more important,more sobering,more morose than finding the dead children,in some sort of terrifying barometer of Race & Rage,some sort of atrocity truce was signed over.
I walked home for a couple miles in the warm sunshine of a peaceful Milaukee 8am.
It’s not the start of some horrid black insane joke. 2 dead children and 4 acquited police officers in the most segregated city in America. Meanwhile journalists are being beaten in Nepal and everyone’s having a high ol’ time in our old friends The Darfur.
Uhm,I’ll have a few more minutes of energy left to make my appointment,but till then,these are the only random notes I have left. Warm sun baking the belching elder smoke of tired rubber asphalt and cable; birds perched on top signing vapid innocent songs of a fragile peace brought by atrocity but carressed by so many. Or,How The West Was Won.