Hello . . . this is Joe. Welcome to A Daily Drabble. Please add 100 words of prose or poetry as a comment on any date you want and in any order you want. Please reply on the drabbles you like. I'll moderate the comments at night, and they'll appear the next day. This is for everyone!
White man’s tentacle killed and renewed vigor for my drabble—I wonder where the Areopagite plays when the virus sways? Where does he stray? In which direction does he seek confections? Rip out the carpet woven with mammon, wack-boy, white-toy capitalism and a toilet-paper famine. Slumped sad in his car, purple john in plastic-coated palm, and a rifle that’s just as trifle too long. Meet me at the teepee, near where the Cree pee and the squaws squat, and you’ll see how I remain in glee, and from the black earth, we’ll squeeze our worth, while the pale people flee.
ReplyDeleteThis photo does different things. One—it projects indigenous activism as threat. Two—it implies the enemy does not include the one who looks but rather an enemy to the right of the frame who neither of us sees. Correction: who the looker doesn’t see. The man looking at us has not one jot relation to cluelessness. His face—not aged, neither fresh—neither violent nor lacking aggression—does a stellar job of summing up a look locates wise. Honestly, I don’t know what instrument he holds: it looks like a gun as seen by one who doesn’t know better.
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