Saturday, April 22, 2017

13/30 Rising

I can feel them trying to come 
the prickle the sting 
prying their way from me 
escape attempt

but I refuse to let them fall 
let them make this moment more erasure 
than it already is 

I hold them a talisman 
I hold that too as 
long as I can 
one exhale on the wrong side of mourning 
could drown me deeper than the last time 

so I hold them in 
the shudder of my chest 
a reminder of what happens 
when your heart turns library 
loaned out to diinterested readers 
who care more about the cliff notes 
less about the story 

everyone has 
only few read it back to themselves 
stuck on the same pages 
reliving past transgressions 
like a recipe to find something 
that was always lost 
even in the retelling 

they are still burning for release
if I let one fall 
they will all cue up
fall forever 

I think 
best to hold them in 
at least until this wave passes 
store them up 
to water something 
that might possibly grow

Friday, April 21, 2017

12/30 For the Love of God and Everything Holy, Body, It's Bread. We Love That shit!

I have occupied this body for a very long time
and there are some betrayals I expect 
some of these balance themselves out 
menstruation for menopause  
200 bucks yearly flushed away for decades, 
in some account I call 
have fun not babies no more 

the stretch marks that replaced smooth skin 
I rationalized that one away 
called it a road map to places traveled 
called it the bumps along the way taught me 
how to navigate better 
called it braille for a lovers touch 

this geographic tongue 
I rationalized it called it 
your tongue has tasted too much bitter 
now time for all the sweet 
called it all the kissing tastes better 
called it whoever, 
whatever you put in your mouth is savored 
in a way that confuses the alphabet 

when my body starts doing the strange
a random elbow rash, 
the phuck? 
bizarre pinking around the eyes and swelling lips 
the hell?

clearly an allergic reaction 
but to what I think
I don't ask my body 
she's on some other shit right now 
if she doin what I think she's doin

the last time I asked my body 
if I was really allergic to something
let's call them oranges 
because I love oranges 
and their cousins all things citrus 
my body said 
yes, Theresa
you are allergic to oranges"

I said, "not today body, 
not today" 

to show her, I ate a bag of oranges 
yeah, I ran a little fever and the rash went away
but in the way off all vaccinations 
you give yourself a bit of the poison 
your body will provide a defense, 
I am no longer allergic to oranges 
I am however still allergic to the peels 
so I can't peel those fucker
but I will eat them all 
cause my skin does it's own thing and since 
it is the largest of all the organs 
I let her do her what she do

but last week, 
last week I noticed the elbow rash 
pink rash around my eyes and lips 
thought, oh hell no 

so like the orange experiment 
I ate all the bread, 
it got worst so 
I denied myself all things delicious 
for 24 hours 
the symptoms calmed 
I went out for dinner 
I want the biggest fucking burger you have 

and it was OK the first few bites 
by bite five 
my lips started burning the swelling began
my elbows were itching as if 
they could scratch themselves 
I remained calm, resisted the urge to 
drop to my knees and scream to the heavens 

"Noooooo, bread! 
Has thou forsaken me? 
Does thee doubt my love 
my devotion you fickle ass delicious lover" 

but bread 
I knew bread wouldn't hear me
she always cheating up in here on everybody plate
right in front of me
besides my friend works at this restaurant 
hey Anisa
it would have been weird 
and my allergicness to possible police involvement 
is one I have no issue with

so, the scene happened in my head, 
as I wondered if it was just bread, 
prayed lord, let it be just bread

next week the beer experiment 
but in the mean time, 
I found this gluten free vodka, his name is Tito, 
as I mourn my lover bread
Tito, tonight he has got my back
unlike this body

Thursday, April 20, 2017

11/30 Dream Reload


Dream Reload

In the dream
bed affixed to floor
I float above a river
mixed emotions
too many tears to count
she never looked for me
lost me on purpose
a trembling lip
of a lie

then a wave comes
pushes past
no more floating
now the falling begins
a slick steady thing
velocity and hallelujah hands
eyes wide open
seeing nothing

10/30 Double Tap

Double Tap
(written while channeling Lee Child’s Jack Reacher Series)

It was never perfect
or quiet as a library
or loud like a bomb blast

and it could never have been mistaken
for a cool breeze,
that’s for damn sure.

The way they stood there
that look in their eyes
focused on a future
they could see so clearly
if they squinted
a ninety degree angle
just right
nothing obtuse about it
at all,
better believe that.

They were acutely aware
intensely, severe and shrewd
experienced implications
and the feelings they feel justified
to have this  complete finality.

This was no love triangle
but a direct flight
a destination only they knew
and not just locals in the area
they were going far with this
like world travel and cruise ships
floating away in a desire that
could never be called listless
but full of everything
including the rain
and all that lightning
and they just sit there
a house looking smug.

Which is to say it was not lacking energy
they didn’t sit in the traditional ways
and maybe set is better
as in the way a cake sets
a specified state,
meaning it was full of enthusiasm
a weather system
they controlled
and the only warming rests
under their skin
embraced in each others steam
which is different than smoke
in that way that it doesn’t burn your eyes
thick and beautiful
just like the first time
serenity in waves
and they drown inside of each other
the perfect
bomb blast
they set out to be
the shape of something real,
and that’s for damn sure.

9/30 Strike

(Some of my 30/30 are poems written years ago finally reworked or edited. This is one of those.)

Wedged against a boulder scraping at flesh and bone.
The pain of getting to know what comes next,
what that look in your eyes actually means,
and what part of that definition will be left with the wreckage.
Wearing silence a halo pierced through with desire with hope.
Little running motions up my spine. Blood filtered through
the promise of forgotten promises.
When our lips first met in that pure place. Wild dogs bayed
at an unseen moon. Our teeth clashed and bit the way we
reached inside of each other. A forgone conclusion an eventual tumult.
We left our innocence wiped it away sweaty intentions.
Pride to proud to mention in that moment.
Clumsy and messy with all the moving parts and I knew I would not survive.

You held me too close, broke me, as if I were a fever.

Sunday, April 16, 2017

8/30 Space

the world is not a safe space
never has been
           never will be

ask Afghanistan
ask the homeless
ask the countless missing women
no one is looking for

in thought it makes sense
it has no place in reality
no one person has the answers
so we are stuck in those places
where stuck things live
where memory fails
and history pretends it never happened

i remember a dream
that wasn't a dream
a brown body on a stage
a brown body in my arms
sobbing and confused
how their community
could turn it's back so loudly
shut their voice off
them shaking
my shirt soggy
nothing there was safe
not even the fabric

there was a time i made a statement
it was mine
i born it myself
believing because it was mine
it would hold me
then someone stuck their fingers into my story
made me all about them
said it was OK
said they were right
because even being my own bones
wasn't safe for me
or them
so they drag their neanderthal thoughts
blamed me for their privilege
they felt safe in their convictions until the next time
when they make some other vagina their own

i suppose you could wrap it
surround it with something impenetrable
bomb proof it
bullet proof it
take it away from those who harm
if we all decide who that is
but it has to be the same who
cover it in plastic
make it safe
no longer a problem for anyone
or anything
because everything is safe
when it is dead

7/30 Variations

in the first dream 
i wake naked           wonder the house 

i do not recognize 
i think i know what this means           but not yet 

in each room i find some forgotten thing 
or some lost item of clothing 
or some part of me I've neglected 

on the stairs there are a pair of shoes 
i have never been before 

they accuse me of running off at the mouth 
of counting things i do not own 
they sit there in their shiny blues 
                a sad song 
                i do not know the words to 

in the kitchen 
the ramshackle that is my heart 
leans a soggy mess on the counter 
every other beat it calls her name           in a whisper shout 

i can not hear 
because my ears 
are no longer connected to my head         
                         and i think i know what this means 
                                                                   not yet 

the last room i care to search 
is not a room at all 
it is the hollow of a throat i loved 
it is my right arm atrophied 
missing the form of her gone body 
                   it is the waist deep in memory 
                   and missing all the points 

i have never lived here 
like i thought 
this house has forgotten the shape of me 
if i ever find my eyes 
maybe they will tell me something different 
echo myself back 

                          i think i know what this means
                                                              not yet

Thursday, April 06, 2017

6/30 The Difference

The Difference

history is not always on your side
there are tools today not available
some long ago

the rules are no longer
the rules

back then
the peaceful opened arms wide
believing no harm would come
because they meant no harm

over and over again
at some point the peaceful
adapted their thinking
protection their mode of communication

modern day colonizers forget
the memories present in the colonized
because they have no recollection
they couldn’t
they have never been
on the receiving end
of loss of home
by force
being demonized for existing
in their own environments

so moving forward
the mentality of
things will be what I want them to be
is not based in real time thinking

these days the people
know they are being displaced
never trusted your tongue
presence in neighborhoods
they’ve inhabited
for decades
and you don’t understand
that you moved into their hoods
you want to claim neighbor
when you do not know them
or care

they who are reduced the to thug
because you never read hood life 101
left a laundry list of opportunities to take
the way you took from them
and this is not to condone
but explain
things don’t change because
you showed up

I know your privilege didn’t tell you this part
that yes the native folk will videotape
the crimes against you
the way the cops tape crimes
perpetrated on them
and nothing happens
and nothing will happen
as long as you believe yourself
to be above them
you continue to call them thugs
call the police when you
don’t like the loudness of their music
because it doesn’t have the same
rhythms of your leaf blower

if you want to live in the hood,
you better learn the language
understand that Leroy
been living on that corner
for a decade
and Miss Lillian knows everything
all the time

your presence
doesn’t change
their reality
it changes yours

and you better learn how to adapt
or just like you saw your opportunity and acted on it,
they will do the same

there are all kinds of takers
you no longer hold
the monopoly on that
and that is the difference

Wednesday, April 05, 2017

5/30 Logophobia


there have always been words
that say what need to be said
exposing to the light
that which loves the dark spaces
in our bodies
in our world
we collect these words
one behind the other
string them along
make them make sense
fill our mouths to the brim
with the texture of them
a collection of thought
figured out
and then
something changes
not the climate of course
we have been told this does not exist
along with all the other thing
we are told does not exist
by way of attaching prefixes
a way of resurrecting fears
that never died in the first place
always there lingering in plain sight
we become other words
combinations that did not exist before
a new list of collective nouns
new words to describe
the systematic grooming of a group
to be referred to as one entity
be us person,
state of mind of being
in this new collective
we become a litany of nothing scientific
though fully recognizable
I mean,
just the other day
in what I thought
was a civilized conversation
my unwillingness to agree with false facts
turned me in their eyes
into a battlefield of belligerence
a cacophony of chaos
such a criticism of compromise
a concern of community
the more I refused to bend my tongue
to their will
I watched them become
a clutch of pearls
a bullet of bullies
a boast of orange
shrouded in an agony of shortsightedness
they issued a warrant of warnings
wrapped in an abortion of anger
who would fear a murder of crows
when surrounded by
a disassembly of democracy
a hazard of humanity
a choke of holds