Weekdays
monday awake
[for the factory’s sake]
but tuesday lies
in the same way
all your teachers lied…
screaming at low volumes
monday awake
[for the factory’s sake]
but tuesday lies
in the same way
all your teachers lied…
Occupation of the occupier,
colonialism is a culture shared
you were right all along,
‘them holes’re all that’s real’
and the love i feel,
goes in to fill…
them holes that fell
when I was 12.
stability is only
insecurity upside-down
(i’m a little glad
i’ve given up being sad)
disenfranchisement, differentiated
splits tree trunks in half
despoliation at home, in bed
left over from the vote,
left over from the voices in my head.
— i don’t even go to funerals anymore,
— i’m just jealous of their good fortune.
in fire
there is renewal,
if not freedom.
you ain’t traveled a mile
if you ain’t cried for a hundred,
Qualified Greatness, a long list of accomplishments where nothing is still and everything is moving. But trysts last only so long. Is it measurable, our failures, they way Success is incest? And when I go will our Accomplishments be Qualified, or merely Quantified?
Lorca! Neruda! Whitman & Elliot! Rimbaud! Have you no Tears left for us wasting on the road to Galicia, in the Cafes of Santiago, the foil’d European Revolutionaire, between coffee spoons, in the suburbs of Paris? O! You sufferers, hold fast – we, too, shall go when the world decrees it is incapable of love! … Read moreLovers Rebel