I hunt for information and gather data
Inside my work cave with a trusty mouse.
I am terrified of the unforgiving world.
I must survive to make ends meet.
I cannot trust outsiders.
Where is my band of people?
To be exiled means to die from shame.
I will say and do anything for acceptance.
I compile my information and data, then think to myself:
Our ancestors were happier than us.
A plotted distance
from which he leaps
through the water to the glass—-
bounding off with its paws,
orchestrated movements
Over & over, the creature moves,
caught in a trained circle
of leaping, swimming, spinning,
& pushing off
to awe the spectators
the children
I am one of them
But, in a way,
I too repeat these movements
begging for others’ amazement
others’ wonder
others’ approval
At least I have a choice in the matter
i promise i won’t
mess up your order, lady
Because i am male
i can confirm that
i have years under my belt
of being yelled at
by people who are
both dumber and meaner than
i will ever be
a focus on trauma
eclipses
the inheritance of
joy
that kept our ancestors
dreaming
the
future (us)
pulling stars down
and
braiding them into
songs
that rippled waves
across
laughing bellies.
“we are the sum of our ancestors”
means
the joy
is there,
too.
Just got that look out of you,
the one my cat gives me
when I pet the spot she
just cleaned so diligently
with sandpaper tongue.
Not again, I hear you thinking;
it’s scribed in the arch of your brow.
It’s been six days on the wagon
and I’m being dragged behind it now,
hanging on to the undercarriage
by a teardrop of hope
and my eyes locked with yours.
Utter Nonsense
This Spewing, fuming
Blazing explosion
Of creation energy
Beauty, Transcendence
The measure of
a painting’s value
Is the degree of sensitivity in the artist
That capacity of feeling
I was crying at the light on the trees
An entire day
With never ending depths of beauty
I couldn’t miss
It blazed by like a train
Emitting the smoke of a thousand cigarettes
The Breath of God raining down
Seeping into our frog skin
“I summoned the breath of God around a beautiful tree and that just takes too many cigarettes”
-Goldie, in response to my noting how much I smoked today.
Vibe is right
Escape from news
Lost in music
another space
letting go of everything
We all need this
I needed this
So much, so much
New Yorkers all in the same space
place\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
I let you put the picture on the wall,
my wall,
that wall;
a reminder of past oppression
fraught with sadness.
It darkened the room.
The winter was long and cold and stale.
In the spring, I wanted a fresh start.
Let in the light.
Let the air flow.
I moved the picture and you were so angry.
You said I had promised to keep that picture right there
on that wall
before us forever
as your memorial of our oppression,
but we had never had that discussion.
You can’t hold the walls of my house hostage
any more than the walls of my heart.
The picture is embedded on my heart
but I have made my peace.
