Ronaldo V. Wilson "The Breaker's Pose broken by graphic and note."   

Ronaldo V. Wilson
 The Breaker’s Pose l broken by graphic and note. 
It passes, from head spin      lToday I was thinking about how I felt after giving up
to spun Cotton. Pink,
rosacea excess,
This is a current note in the middle of the first poem of a manuscript that I titled,
 l/l/l, a series of attempts -  in the form of poems -  delineating  my relationship
 as a writer to my identity as a black                                                  l:object.
the skin waits to glut. Oil.  I whisper         [l]
when I choose.   l This has everything to do with deciding to not start the day
 with coffee, because I am obsessed with telling everyone that I quit. l
In that hiss:         [ I told my department secretary, who responded by saying gently,
“It must be hard if you really liked it.”  As her phone rang and she picked it up, I left and
 thought: “Did my drinking such gritty, barely milked and unsugared Guy & Gallard
house blend - each morning -  mean my ingesting a tiny, violent, though daily, black
 self?”  ]
Not Caliban, but alley l I tried Red Bull for a few days.  I loved it.
The load of taurine, ginseng and caffeine did a better job than coffee; but on Red Bull, in
 the middle of the day, I often crashed into a sleep that wed my stomach, tearing from the
 inside, to my eyes, light pulsing behind each lid.
lborn.  Rotate.
Strike:[                                     ]              Floor work, not shufflin’.
Kick:  Cull the skull         lHow much longer could I go on   
When I break,                   
I make me, alone.
I  Steal.     l[cementing a black hole?]                            l
                         O l pen the form.