A flattened shopping experience feels like a symptom of
I'm just trying to make small adjustments now,
I've got to be careful of rationalisations
they are the pathology, overspilling.
So one week I think I'm being haunted by home,
that a JD Sports will open round the corner,
be shuttered by autumn,
another and I think well, whatever informs my opinion
is just a constellation
and so my friends and where they live,
are a constellation and getting where they be
is of little consequence,
the arrival shall bleed off annoyance.
But diminished returns I keep referring to:
when the narcissist is borough bought
and sold on the town tale
-that being surrounded is enough,
but in the end dominion isn't
If it's just a wrench to something familiar
if I accept JD
if I'm not running from the fire sale
I have diminished the return,
ready for the new wave
to churn the scatter,
toss out the cockles,
to wash us over.
It’s so hard to write poems when I can’t feel my feelings
one year ago this morning someone I loved
last breath with my hand on their shoulder
someone who made someone who made me
shouting things and feeling like we won
in arms on a sofa
in arms in the kitchen
sitting on a bench in a stairwell
where the biennials used to be
wearing a skirt from that era
holding a three month old who held
my fingers in their mouth
our posture like a painting
for the people on their way from 3 to 4 to see,
impersonating living my idea of a perfect life
shouting and cheering in the plaza
the night warm for this time of year
today i didn’t read the internet for hours
and then when i did i read someone
very intelligent saying that some people should
in fact start to make exit plans and that this is
a rehearsal for a coup and…
what we’re doing on thursday
isn’t a date thought it may look like one
the baby’s not mine
yet history is doing what it appears to be doing?
he was conscripted by the occupying army, was a police officer when the dictator was in charge
got out, got here, spoke so gently to me, died with me there
Here is the
thing so many times
the shape is by accident or maybe the
same shape has been this
accident for what feels
like always the men nod to
the men and everyone including some
of the other men wonder when the
speaking will cease the braids
become ropes the beads become
carve a daisy into the bathroom mirror
the future will know
what you meant
The birthday girl
shared her sweet sixteen,
The razor wire of the Napanoch prison
wasn't far off.
Inside, streamers and hula hoops.
We worked on our flirtatious antagonism,
if there were boys there,
which I think there were.
our hot breath in the winter air,
our whispers held aloft.
A small huddled masses Whispering words and phrases Shaking fists And wiping eyebrows Back in the email threads of hope-filled 2009 I could not have thought we'd be gathered By this little flame Trying to comfort ourselves And each other somehow.
A stone like youHeavy falling slow through the water At deep hole The beer cans arranged casuallyThe moss molded to the shape Of my butt We talked our numbers and how being wanted changes you (I wouldn't know)
On our walks through this city parkYou always stop at the big fallen tree and ask if I want to put my face againstThe tender green sporesAnd that's the reason I love you so muchEven though I don't like you that muchThese days.
2:36 to 3:03 of Mariah
from Ariel perched
half woman half
on her episodic
rock of ages.
My grandma gave
me the Heroine book -
Joan of Arc,
I spelled it
Heroin in my hole punched summary.
Learned that difference, the easy way.
Cole always told
me to be magic, but
every time I tried we both got sad.
He would say right now how I’m *wrong*
and if I think
about it (at all)
– but then that’s
and I’d rather
just swallow the day,
2:36 to 3:03 of
Mariah Carey Hero.
Maybe just to 3:02.
That’s the most legitimate feeling I’ve had in a while.
Remember: the resistance WITH joy not OF joy, Allison
keep it straight! You've had a pile on before the mind
in panic mode coming from outside in now but if you
can manufacture it out of nothing you can get around it
out of something. It's a neural net you know too well.
But of course you've been in the valley so long, old
cowboy maybe it's home now. No, you're out! You
Mountaintop gal you! Queen of the hill you see
the valley now you SEE the valley now tell them:
He's just doing what a panicked brain does, a disembodied
organ, barely used! And what helps? How does it always
end? Well that's the trick. That's the secret. With a pill
or a change in diet or the sun. Or just me tricking back;
tricking the brain back into submission, now, with JOY!
dear mom and dad, sometimes it's hard to believe you created me. i think you get surprised sometimes too that we're so different. i have been thinking about this a lot and i want you to know how your votes have affected me and the people around me. on election night i went to bed crying. i had trouble falling asleep because i was so anxious realizing he might actually win. i woke up at 3am to someone outside my window screaming on the sidewalk "Fuck Fuck Fuck" and i started crying all over again as we checked our phones and saw it was over. somehow he won. i woke up again at 6am crying. i walked the dog and overheard 2 muslim children crying as their mother told them "no one is sending you anywhere." i cried all morning. i got to work and my coworkers and i looked at each other and cried. i looked at my students' faces-- red, puffy, tear streaked. we sat in circles and talked about our feelings. some were angry, some confused. some apathetic. some asked why our country is so racist. why don't white people care about us? i heard stories from elementary school teachers consoling crying 6 year olds and trying to explain "why the bad guy won" and i cried some more. i listened to the news the morning of the inauguration and as reality began to set in, more tears came. every day i struggle to get out of bed. i have to tell myself that i can do something to impact change, that there's enough of us to stop him. go to a rally, march all day keep writing letters keep signing petitions keep calling keep emailing keep up with social media keep up with the news but we're 5 days in and i already feel defeated and disheartened. every day i have to talk myself out of just curling up in a ball and crying. every day i have to convince myself that life is still worth living. and i don't even if have it that bad. imagine the people who don't have my privilege. imagine what they're going through.
she lies in snores on the floor
unaware that the world has changed
does she sense the anxiety?
i sit with my hand on my stomach
knowing it's time to eat but
unable to leave the screen
there's too much happening that can't be ignored
but i read that article that says
i need to ignore some things
and my eyes are permanently bloodshot
and the headache is moving in
but i can't stop refreshing the screen
i should've written you on the 20th day but that was a sad, angry day and all i could think of was the resistance and poetry felt separate until i organized my bookshelf and pulled out the spoken word revolution and poetry of resistance and poetry matters and and and