Poetry

[untitled]

How do i justify
metaphors
when babies in
colonized territories
are slaughtered
w/ my tax dollars?

how do i redirect
the rage i feel
to save
              to heal?

even tears taste
privileged
when families run
and the unborn
remain.

still...

tears fall like
the sink drips
so easy to stop
so simple to fix.
all i can do
is write & beg—
earth
swallow all empires.

“Une Poème Sur de Grave Inflammation du Nerf”

pain pain pain pain pain
all that amazing food today, but now
i want to sleep.
nerves go tingle prickle zap zap zap
muscles cant relax & throb throb throb
right thumb is filled w/ poprocks
skin ice cold; tendons inflamed
thumb-tip-to-shoulder-&-up-the-neck
docs used too small'a rubberband
to string it all back together
limb will hang forever crooked, undead
It will never stop.
pain pain pain pain pain

“Fight Song”

“Panic Attack II”

Punish yourself w/ sleeplessness:
Stay. Awake.
Until the lowest light burns your eyes
& shadows turn to familiar specters.
Stay. Awake.
Until sound makes you flinch w/ pain
& you dream awake until time blurs
& you can’t remember. Stay. Awake.
Until light burns & breathing hurts
& your limbs grow into your sheets
until you can’t remember whywhywhy
whywhywhywhywhywhyyoustayawake.

“Assimilation”

My fingers are too impatient
for the surgical application of beads
or the weaving of colors from the earth,
but these are probably on sale at Target.

Flesh dreamcatchers cannot drip
like feathers to send nightmares
into morning sun & blue eyes
look at red bodies w/ hunger—
hahkv teeth & baby screams.

A boy in an Indians ball cap once
told me that his daddy thought
that his grandfather told him
a great-uncle was Cherokee.

When I was six, a friend asked me
if I could track their lost kitten
& bring it back home, unharmed.
I tried, but I’m no Tonto.

“Just After Dawn Poem”

i stay awake for you,
smelling coffee i’ll never taste,
roasted ground beans tickling
my nose like a school day
wakeup call & breakfast
before the television screen.

On cold days, oatmeal
w/ blue or strawberry swirls
but today, like every adult day,
beer b/c i never slept,
so it’s still technically evening—
if anyone asks—for me.

The darkness under my eyes
has started paying the bridge
of my nose rent. I wonder
if my face will eventually
vanish into a shadow, will
it retain shape or blur?

The fan oscillating on high
once lullabied me after dawn,
but it’s been two days now
& I can hear the plastic
drone against the metal inside
so I keep writing, for you.