Tuesday, April 25, 2017

words for April

in honor of poetry in New Orleans


a festival
of poetry
and crawfish
slam no slack image
riot
sound performance
of melody
syntax
or a walk
in the bayou

once I saw an alligator
and dreamt of poetry
a wildflower
iris in the swamp
dragonflies
and tiny lizards

remind me, like
when a single line
at once, disarms
a refrain of syllabic
shattered mystique
occupies

"what dark phantoms
creep in the underbelly
of your dream?"

throw back some oysters
beer etc
excess
win the lottery until
the underbelly turns
out, out of step
unrestrained



*quote from Michael 'Quess?' Moore's "America, what's in your name?"

Monday, April 03, 2017

poem

imagine thirst
folded over by sand
dust crackling
jigsaw dirt riverbed
a giant sucking sound
the water
like in a cartoon
a tornado
spiraling away
rolling downhill from the
river bed, dirt crackling
to the edges
cliff coast
falling off
imagine the water
running scared
sacred
your insides
shriveling
collapsing in
scatter like ash
at the touch

Sunday, April 02, 2017

April poem

if on any day
any collection
reminisce
follow
detour
pick up one stone
at a time
if in a space, contained
a piece of sun
back-lit
underpin the amble
toward
 

Tuesday, March 21, 2017


"November 2001.   Anyone looking like a potential terrorist can be jailed indefinitely. Profiling detains people at airports. Meeting vague descriptions and criteria, some people are sent back to countries where they haven’t lived in years. One man, cleared of any terrorist connections within a couple of days, dies after a month in prison while waiting to be shipped home. References to the U.S. camps that kept Japanese-Americans from causing trouble during WWII float in the air. Some wonder why we haven’t learned from our own history. Some wonder what happened to democracy and rights. Some argue that of course we have rights, unless we do something wrong. To be safe, make sure not to do anything wrong. Also, make sure not to be something other."

Thursday, February 02, 2017

in time



after Reginald Shepherd 

someone fell fled stumbled here
detoured her means: she can’t see around corners
beyond her reach, unseen from any side
under represented gap
between, and flowing. if we listen we might witness
a suffocating passage of air, through lungs like water
her language settling like snow
flakes against the palm of my hand, survive
across geologic layers, indiscriminate molecules

Tuesday, January 31, 2017

Thursday, January 26, 2017

100 days

Resist Repealing Resist cutting Resist deporting Resist enabling Resist supporting Resist acquiescing Make visible Make known Make loud Make tension Make boundaries Make noise Make alternatives Make spaces Make choices Make clamor Make decisions Make friends Make coalitions Make movements Invest in people Invest in action Invest in accountability Invest in change Invest in hope Invest in phone calls Invest in bumper stickers Invest in not backing down Invest in continual pressure Invest in tangible resistance labor Invest in the idea of democracy that we’ve been fed Invest in uncovering the truth about the democracy that we’ve lost Invest in encouraging others to join in join up take hold get up get out get to work