They Took Me. 

Then after Processing I guess we all got put on this giant War Bus and got to have pleasant conversation together and when the bus pulled into the metal shutters of the garage and stopped a fat man got on, opened the main cage we were all in and he said “I’M LUXOR ZYGOG III ESQ. or something, CAPTAIN OF THE C.E.R.T. TEAM, AND I ORDER YOU TO COMPLY, WILL YOU COMPLY?” and we sort of rustled and he said “GOOD”
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and I was thinking still about how this was all quite suspiciously well-orchestrated for a modern-dance ballet and that the set was really something.
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Because it was very boring I am describing the georgraphic contour of my small cell so maybe you can understand it. It’s important that if you get bored you go away.
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so I looked like a Chinese acrobat.
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So I kind of went down the far Red stairs and still had a pretty stupid loud haircut and I think one of our guys had been bailed out at $3000 or 10% or that cause he’d been wearing a sombrero or something and there was a bank of 10 phones but 3 of them were dead and it was insane to try to call on them and I kind of bantered with some people who were laughing and kind of having an ok time laughing and there were some tables and chairs around and some people looked kinda mean but really everyone was just people and there was one really fat guy
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Still, I didn’t really get that ripped, and the food was not quite as good as that cake I dumpstered over and over again from our filth in North Dakota after I ejaculated into my socks and then put them on but I got most of it in and it was wonder bread and things that seemed to want to be acting like potatoes and mush and a lot of meat mostly and some smears of ketchup or something like butter.
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and when I went back to my cell to be locked in again I made some suspenders out of the bits of sheet the other guy must’ve left there and kind of gnawed little holes in my pants to tie them onto. Then all that day I was all coming in and out of my cell wearing each time more accoutrements, a bow-tie, a headband, a top-knot like and this guy said how “this cat’s a pimp even in jail” and I ran around for a while and the guy said how was I doin and I said ok it was ok here and he said yea this can go in your memoirs and I been thinkin since how he was sayin that to an activist white kid and 3 million Americans are in jail or prison and it should be considered a civic duty and hella people are so scared of it like that crying 120 lbs. girl , and then later about how with bail if you’re rich you just pay the whole $70,000 and get it all back but if you’re poor you have to lose $7,000 to a bondsman so the rich stay rich and the poor get poorer like in the G20, or like how on the wall of my cell it also said “they aim to take us away from are families” and “so many fatherless children” or something like to obviate the connection between black guys in prison and perpetuating no male modeling for black kids as a conspiracy theory to undermine the community and I thought that even though its not maybe a real planned conspiracy, that doesn’t matter cause the effect is the same so it might as well be and it makes itself one, right.
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so then I had started to make 1000 paper cranes out of a food-stained W2 form
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when that rapist guard came up to me I knocked out at him and said how I was a pretty good artist and I would draw him ladies if he would gimme his pen for a while and he said ok so first I drew some ladies but since I was all in jail I wasn’t feeling the sexytimes so they didn’t come out so, so I started writing on all the old court notes I’d got that day in the garbage and hoping the guy had fallen and got hurt so I could keep his pen
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then they gave me back my clothes while a stupendous thug obviated that I’d have to pay for the sheet I’d shredded to hang myself with and I put my cow suit back on from a box and then put on deodorant and realized how I’d just gotten a toothbrush and some white shreds for $1,200 and I was happy about that cause it seemed like a pretty good deal so I started brushing my teeth as I sat down and slowly came to the realization in my ears that there were fifteen govt thugs at the desk in front of me all sort of lounging and taking turns saying “penis” “penis” “penis” sort of nonchalantly and it was just raw and baffling and gave me a whole new perspective on law enforcement. So they took me out calling me the stinky cow and I was sayin’ how I was the Stink Cow too an then I walked out the door to my friends who had set me free and I did another flip and we held tight and it wasn’t no easy thing for them either to figgur me out of that.

I guess, then, that I think a lot of people don’t do things they would do cause they get scared of going to jail. And I don’t mean it’s hella rosy or hella bad, like anything I guess anything can happen and its for sure hella boring or what, right, but I think in general it’s not something that people should be afraid of, or something that they should let stop them from doing things they want to do or let the fear of it bully their ideas around.

here's some prose poesy from in there & maps