Today, Zavi Kang Engles takes us to her avenue; grabs our spirit, and propels us to skip, run, jump up, and then contemplate the Zavi spirit of discovery and reflection.
I get shy feeling the velvet of your eye So many hands prune the lively tendrils of the world
From far away everything man-made looks like candy
But how many of us are still capable of a child’s delight?
Yet the up-close of the world is cloying too Proximity nauseates
The blankets begin to stink of us
The evangelicals and techno-optimists dream the same warm dream Of angelic hands churning another world like the miracle of butter
But, stuck here for now, razing on reveals skulls—the condensed magic of bones
Depleting to sate a strange hunger, re-plated as democracy
That’s all Far away ag…