Water, ancient remembers
Re-member the collective humanity
Hope has not yet died
But
I see the horrors of bodies, born Black and brown
Now lifeless
Bodies whose souls now wander
Pleading for us to remember
To not look away
To never be afraid speak truth to abused and misused power
As colonialism fights to scream over its death rattle
Let the shaking of our voices ring louder
(First word of every dialogue line from Samuel Beckett’s “Waiting for Godot”, unedited nor proofread)
A evening Estragon nothing advancing am I’m me together not may in a over and beat the the when and it’s ah hand taking boots help it hurts you true what the why sometimes nothing show there’s try I’ll there’s what suppose repented oh our one dreadful merely what did the do I you I where swelling ah no shall no it’ll our our saved hell I’m and I one who what what’s the why because from imbecile I from well then and but well, but who everybody people pah charming we why we’re ah what that he what I wear it no or looks a a a he he and we’ll and possibly, and the until you’re we ah what what yes why in you well, that all you’re what that he you are but it’s or what’ll if but I all I I I don’t I don’t this. Let there you that calm calm yes tell ah an stop you I’ve you’re wait yes wait hmm an with let’s from we go after no why you’re just I use this you’re gogo I if but so well don’t let’s who Godot good let’s on I’m what were I oh a precisely a exactly and that that that in consult his his his his his his before it’s his I I and I I I wear come take come as your we’ve you’d we’ve we we’re listen I hsst you I godot pah I and at I’m do is I give oh I ah did how’s it’s so I’ve well we’re I im tied ti-ed how down but to to his I fancy with, and I is question of nothing no one no nothing on let stay be is who er godot yes I not he not you’re I bozzo Pozzo Pppozzzo ah is Pozzo I we’re you well who godot you oh who oh nothing true personally you that’s waiting well here we we the that’s it’s nothing let’s what he why how say look what his hi here oh a it’s it’s it’s it’s he’s would a look its look perhaps a looks it’s he’s it’s and what goggling looks it’s would what mister louder mister leave please what er you no mister you’re excuse mister it’s are to a you eleven I ah let’s so one let’s so one let’s I we’re the he who he why I why but you’re a I what you ask why I ask you thats you he’s the here what he’s good i’m what why don’t bags ah make he what perhaps you he you he youve in you he you remark you I you I he’s old here make oh I show it’s I’ll I’ll he’s try guess will but a that and swine after I I He any he’s it’s how he does what does I what I ask gentlemen charming unforgettable and apparently it’s it’s worse the the the what he’s I’ll end keep I’ve he’ll you he oh come what you’ll you quick oh it’s he’s you he will you well why could if what if would I here no come you why no time don’t everything except let’s but true Adam ah so one one no simply we’re how oh and oh bless oh I you in you somewhat and I’ve gentlemen not what yes even we is even that’s I is who who he certainly I’d not wouldn’t I’d perhaps would by then do he he is encore pooh he he the the the there’s woaa tell with my no wait wait wait ah he well why rubbish are damn I’ve he’s anyway so since stoutly and answer in true true nothing tell give his he me I’ll tell it’s I’ll you tell it’s I’ll what’s stand on stop given his avenged give but walk perhaps you’ll up how raise he’s you to come what don’t perhaps wait silence I where it’s damnation silence perhaps which he I I then adieu adieu adieu adieu adieu adieu and thank no yes no yes no I such you’re I on on faster adieu up that it yes what I let’s we why we’re ah how who those that’s haven’t what changed very likely I yes no we why that forget unless didi unless mister off approach mister yes what approach approach what Mr. obviously will you yes well what let you it’s and I afraid I how a you yes the yes do no yes that’s but will I’m not I’d extraordinary Mr. I’ve I you no it no this yes words Mr. is yes you yes what I is yes he no whom he ag he’s what he and he does fairly you’re yes well I you no you’re in with yes in yes all what tell yes at pale eh of your I’m but Christ Christ all but yes we’ve not sh how did no be then are pity come remind yes how I do we you that’s my there’s wait I’m wait it’s no we it’s no well yes
He’s just a man
and after 30 years
I begin to understand
when you were raised rod and not gentle hand
a bull arises new and old fears
He’s just a man
To see a frightened son stand
his faced dusted with tears
not something one can aband
So to the spark you take a fan
To raise a voice that shakes the boy and steer
he’s just a man
A threat of a blow that could land
Leads to being frozen like a deer
he’s just a man
You instill then your grit and sand
with hopes he’ll learn how you are dear
he’s just a man
I begin to understand
The tires of my pick up truck
Create dry dirt clouds behind me
I haven’t seen a soul in 10 miles
I’m no stranger to lonely roads
The radio is busted
I listen to the rocks pelt the undercarriage
A staccato soundtrack that keeps me awake
The horizon smiles down on me
The sun performing its final number
Before gracefully exiting the stage
I’ve only got enough gas for a couple miles
Good thing I’m used to coasting on empty
prompted by a Rockwell-like painting of three women at a kitchen table, a mother, a daughter, the daughter’s best friend, happy in the moment, the connection, but Life has a way of changing Art, like the message I received at dinnertime, my wife and I at our table with the dogs nearby, also Rockwell-ish, an anguished note from a long-time friend in Australia that his husband, also my long-distance friend, both of them brothers together with me on this Path, is dying, in palliative care, the day after their sixth wedding anniversary, a long time legally coming after eighteen years as a devoted couple, so instead this is a poem to celebrate the virtual times we’ve spent together, from our places at kitchen tables half a world apart, to offer Peace and Love to all whose lives we collectively touched, and hope we’ll meet again on the next Path.
My walls may be infested
with brambles and my gutters full
of wet leaves but when the sun shines
through my oval frames and causes
my shingles to glow, I know
for a fact that I’m lucky
to have been built, and lucky
to still be standing.
NOTE: Title is a line from “Sweet Lovin’ Man” by the Magnetic Fields
after Terrance Hayes’ poem, “How to Draw an Invisible Man”
1. And when the scene sets just right, the trees
grey wind bursting from my father’s cuticles, i discovered
he had been hoarding his mental strife in the silver capping
of his iridescent crooked teeth all these years
2. raw & reeling,
boyhoodpast shiny film noir under his eyelashes, mumbling
about his dead & gone parents’ grey hairs, grief left on the back
burner of his daughter’s developing mind
3. transparently, he has been here
many times before, sweeping tactile trauma into the mouths
of tiny bullets, soaring into a void of clinical darkness setting
on a night full of whistling teeth & empty echoes bouncing
off a house cooled by fire his darkness is
mine & my mothers’ to hold & coddle to sleep, it’s my turn
to face the burning of our shared mentals, melting into the
same sickness, freckling onto our faces, my beauty mark is a
blackhole mirroring my mother’s pupils, blown wide & searching
for imposter in his trained smile avensburg court,
a cul-de-sac of cracking appearances & corked up wine trembling down
scarred arms, he thinks everyone wants to know each story shrouded
in his infantile hands impressing white people a hot pass time
4. but they just want a glance of his pseudo
whiteness on the backdrop of his daughters’ darkening face, they
want to hear her speak back in tongue foreign to her bio makeup,
wanna close their eyes & see their own children’s laughter sprouting
out her mouth, her aura’s codeswitching phantom stuck to the back
of her neck like a leech
5. he’d gladly watch
her emotionblood pool if it means he can gloat about the obedient
walkingcorpse left in the wake of his zealous & lost identity
Fascinate mistakes—miscalculations, small breaks.
Slippages, outages, errors of way. In awkward moments,
lean in. Study tension, missed sarcasm, ill-timed
jokes. Count the cacophonies of a sidewalk’s crack,
send a collision into unaware arms. Pray lucky
the life that gets led astray. We weren’t built
to make it one flawless motion. When we try, we miss
the jolt of endless delay. Lightning up the coastline—
like the pineapple, the salt crystal, our brachial lungs—
let life implode into fractals of everyday fault.
