Posts for June 27, 2020 (page 5)

Who knew me running all over Manhattan
streets, subways, lyfts in November’s freezing

winds would be (maybe) the last time I will
ever visit the city that never sleeps.  I feel

I dreamt this.  Cocktails at the top of the rock
overlooking Atlas holding the heavens.  A

private tour of Christies including behind
the scenes how they handle their antique

ceramics.  My friends, shoppers, go to
Chinatown and I am on my own to go to

Macys decorated highly for Christmas.
Herald Square, Broadway and 34th.

I am dreaming even then I feel I am dreaming
but I am not.

I could not walk without bumping into another
someone who was looking up as I was.

Naive.  Unguarded.  Should we have known?

I take a video from the plane over the Hudson,
watch the skyline as we ascend

until the fog and clouds shut down my view.

A Saudi Arabian dust storm blows across
the ocean                 
                  parachutes invisibly from atmosphere  
fine enough to slip through my nose, into my
mind           
          reminding me that everything touches
everything else.                            

                              I ride  a camel in the desert.
I am the moon shining where she steps.                                     

                                                                        This
palpable world of sense is a contraction that
seems an expansion.                                      
                                      Einstein says space and
time are persistent illusions.        
                                                    Muhammad says
God is closer than the jugular vein in my neck.                                                     

Hiding inside thick dry wood
a shape waits to be cut free
and brought to life
again.

today is your
birthday
though we haven’t
celebrated
in more than
six years.

this day should be
joyous
and instead is 
agony
“happy birthday” 
feels more like an 
obituary. 

the first time you told me
about the voices 
I laughed
we were 18
and I thought it was a
joke. 

I must have offended 
them 
for they have ripped you
apart
and taken you from 
me
piece by piece 
every day
since. 

I want to tell the
shell of you 
“happy birthday” 
today
but would they even 
allow you to
listen? 

Congestion
Mucus fills the lungs 
Could permanently damage

Children have to be released by July 17 
Without their parents
Judge’s orders

Why in the hell didn’t the judge order a full release
Of everyone?
People are in cages for God’s sake

Aluminum blankets and mothers sweet arms
The last time most of those kids
Will see their parents
Could permanently damage

America is disgusting
No human being is illegal
Especially people who try their damndest
Just to keep their families
Safe
Healthy
Happy 

The smell that lingers
The hidden information 
The shame that it’s covering 
The misunderstanding 
The moment of confused compulsion
The helpless conclusion 
The sad joke
The dismissal of…life 
  -of importance of feeling
  -of specific experience
  -of helpless emotion, reeling
  Like a heel on a small skull, pushing and grinding
  the organization fleeing
  replaced with bewilderment 
  a robbery of anger.
How someone decides you’re more threatening, because you make too much sense, you don’t bow enough, you have thoughts of your own. Dangerous to the establishment and the powers that be.

Duck, duck down. Roll under and hide behind the ferns.
Don’t let them see your heroic chin
Stand still and be cut to size
The kind of scrap that builds monuments to power
That heels all men
with blinders and bits
and ciphers the emotion into channels that bend
back upon themselves. 

All slaves, no matter.
All below you, don’t be fooled,
Always worthwhile as something to break
Or chain, starve or disdain. 

All around us are heroes and role models
seemingly assured
and yet blindly we assume they are 
That they must be immune to self-conscious trickery,
to doubt

girl fills all the water bottles and makes potions potions magic girl whose arms petal out like flowers waving for balanced she rides the ripstick girl is six flowers aren’t in her hair yesterday she was called “tomboy” by the neighbor she asked me what does this word mean what does this mean am I not a girl? my partner said to her you can do what you like things aren’t girl or boy or labeled like that do what you like she said yes yes Daddy that’s right maybe boy was jealous of her agile body the way she is obviously stronger though younger she swings on ropes she knows how to braid girl is a circle she’s ever-present like air she turns hot and cold and sometimes she is a calm eye resting in a hammock but mostly she conjures  stormclouds in between her brows lightning from fingertips she’ll dance in the hail with her helmet on she rides ripsticks with her brothers our girl’s another windchime bossy bossy she can tie her own pony, tails the boys, refuses to go the way they lead, our girl grabs a fish by its green open mouth girl digs under rocks to find the juicy worm girl never stop moving even when she’s tired girl the color of apricots girl the color of melons girl the color of foamed milk, girl the color of topsoil, girl the grey of the sky striped through with mica and shine, our girl labels all the rocks and knocks on neighbor’s doors hustles people to buy buy it’ll make you feel better you can rub it when you are stressed my girl’s hair is a nesting place for birds, you know she never combs it she thinks she looks fine and yes she wears her helmet to protect her priceless grey matter she is a little bud she is tender tough, girls elbows and knees roughed from concrete she bleeds she understands her own particular muscle unbloomed yet but she will decide how and when it fills and empties fills and thrusts out new life, she asks all the good questions and I tell her the truth the truth she’s ruthless as roots tripping up the sidewalk she’s old as them too she’s underground she’s listening to worms she sings them songs she’s named each one girl used to tell me stories about owls about babies and bat mommas and fishes with scales like rainbows who go to school and never grow old girl dresses herself and she whispers these questions until her breath gets long and lithe and her eyes half close she wonders how does grass grow? what’s on a dog’s mind? when you die what will I remember you by? girl grown inches overnight with knees knowing the taste of concrete she beats her own tom tom tom with a stick she’s carving to a point what’s the point she knows she is an arrow not yet shot over the cheese-faced moon, she thinks there is a bunny there teasing her, not a man, she’s the girl on the skateboard girl on wheels girl determined to balance, confident and clasping and unclasping, behind her back, her petals, her hands

Summer’s humid air
weighs heavy as man’s misdeeds
hang, knee and bury    

ocean waves don’t wash
man’s hate filled sins from the earth
baked-in evidence    

Yeah for online meets
virus way to freeze faces
and silence heart beats  

For fuck’s sake, STOP!
There is nothing to celebrate.
America is not beautiful.
Liberty and justice for all
is a bold-faced lie.