Category Archives: Poem

Post the Ninety-First or Tombs

Fancy ass houses

Sprout up like weeds

Among the desiccated shells

Of homes past

&

The street corner is still

A battleground

Full of ill-forgotten

dead

DEVELOPMENT

DEVELOPMENT

DEVELOPMENT

He cries

Come one

Cum all

To Free Market

Circus

Where all your dreams will come

True

Where the only person that matters

Is you

Where all your cares can be laid

To rest

(If you are white, rich and exploit the already exploited)

Nevermind

The broken communities

The displaced people

The alienation you feel in your soul

The Crier Cried

Are you tired of your

Perfectly manicured lawns

Your neighborhood associations

Your serene and “safe” home?

Why not

Spice it up!

By moving to this

Low-Income Neighborhood!

(The Natives call it the “Hood”)

For the low low price

Of fucked up racial dynamics

You too can be that edgy white dude

Or that free spirited hipster girl

You can be the face of post-racial Amerikkka!

And for a limited time we will throw in a Black FriendTM

To prove you aren’t

A racist!

(And if the Natives bother you just call the cops!)

Do you

Enjoy flaunting your wealth

In front of the folks

You stole it from?

Do you

Have a burning need

To assuage your guilt

By saving the black and brown children?

Than step right up

I dare you

Come closer

Take a hard

Look

At what you have

Wrought

Upon yourself

Nothing

But a putrid emaciated corpse

Croaking feebly

“I hunger.”

&

Those fancy ass houses

with windows turned

Inward

Are

nothing

but

Tombs

Advertisements

Post the Eighty-Eighth or Juntos

Rough edges

Grate across each

Other’s

Heart

Words fall

Like drops

Out of your mouth

Into sore wounds

I never knew what love looked like

But you showed me

The inside of your flesh

And I remembered

My

Self

Re-membered

Love is only ever

What we give

The sun lies

Across the mountain

Paining the sky crimson and gold

I turn to see

Your face outlined

In scrub bush and nettle

Your lips the color of

Twilight

Qué es el cariño

Entre dos cuerpos

Constantly atropellado by the world

When the only sure thing

Is death?

Querido

Keep your palm pressed

Against mine

And don’t be afraid

Porque estamos

Juntos


Post the Eighty-Seventh or Whole Pieces

Displaced

My Body               torn

Into                                       precise

/                       Pieces

Distilled

Into marrow

Brown skin

Soft breasts

Hard cock

These parts

House

Fire

Limbs

Made of glass

With-stand great

Heat

But

Shatter

Easily


Post the Eighty-Sixth or Sometimes you get lost

Sing, O Goddess

Sing about the Rage

De nuestro pueblo

Sing

Of the Colors

That run across

Borders and Centuries

Sing

Of the Reistance

Residing in the

Inside of our Bellies

Sing

Of your Daughters

Who lived as they died

With swords in their hands

Poetry is

my Native

Tongue

Spoken only

Under/Full

Moon.

SHE kissed my Fore-Head

And I saw

Sky

Written in Gold

Earth

Written in Amber

Life

Written in Struggle

Death

Written in Life

I often Wonder

how to find

Mean-ing

Forgetting

Kindness


Post the Eighty-Fifth or Whispers

I hear

Her whisper

Beating

In my chest

I exist

I exist

I exist

Holding two halves

Of a Broken cup

Trying not to

Cry

I hear

Her roar

Tearing

Through my veins

Avenge me

Avenge me

Avenge me

With your sword

Of black lace and sharp mind

Colored brown

With dried gore

I realized

That life is

More than just

A series of

defeats

But dead women

Do not feel

Rage


Post the Eighty-Forth or For Cherríe

I am not

Your daughter

The apple that slipped

Through your brown

calloused mouth

Was never meant

For me

But I see

You

Within me

Our vision clouded

By the heartache

De nuestra Madre

Gritando

¿Por que?

¿Por que?

¿Por que?”

Why did they

Take

my Daughters?

Nací

With a body

That betrayed me

Mi india

&

My gender

@ odds

There is no factory setting

But they told me

I was built

Wrong

And so

Do you

Pero

Yo sí sé

Que somos

Hermanas

Because who else

Could see

Inside

My queer brown (trans) woman

Heart?


Post the Eighty-Second or Burn

I burn

Darkly.

Opalescent

Flames dancing

On the tips of my eyes

Shedding shadows and shade

Across fields

Of white grass

That feed no one

They buried my heat

In a forest

of Glass and Steel

Hoping that I would

Fail to remember

The blood that kept

My ancestors hot

But even a cactus

Blooms

In the desert