Solstice

i.
spring has come and gone
like two birds fluttering through the sky
we danced love-drunk passed midnight, kissing, laughing, stumbling through the dark on our way to the car

ii.
lost in the darkness of hair/eyes/mouths, endlessly
holding onto each other while the world shakes and shutters beneath us,
holding onto others, hungry, yearning, subversive

iii.
will I be broken in the morning?
no, the revolution still pulsing through my body, my blood, my mind
as I curl up with a copy of Giovanni’s Room and welcome summer

Charlottesville

blood in the streets,
still I’m not surprised,
hateful hooded men who carry torches breeze past me everyday,
in the supermarket, on the subway –
cloaks and masks removed.

blood in the streets,
and somehow the opposition is to blame,
how dare we fight back against an armed, racist, mob,
don’t you know who gets to carry the pitchforks around here?
(hint: it’s not you and I)

blood in the streets,
and broken bodies out on sidewalks all summer long,
when’s it going to finally sink in?
more incendiary threats and half-baked wars,
this nation will be its own ruin.

Le Monde

 
Les corps en émoi,
L’âmes en pleurs,

Les particules cosmiques s’écrasent au profond de nous,
Nous sommes tous des Adams/nous sommes tous des atomes.

Les cœurs naviguent,
Les esprits rêvent d’un meilleur moment et endroit.

Nourrissez-nous de lumière, d’eau, d’air,
Dispersez-nous au vent, enterrez-nous dans la terre.

La violence nous ronge,
Tragédie après tragédie après tragédie.

Les vies disparaissent comme un feu sauvage,
Si nous ne progressons pas, nous sommes condamnés à la supernova.

Des destructions inimaginables,
Perdues toujours dans les profondeurs de l’historie.

Continue reading “Le Monde”

The Poll Waltz


“Freedom isn’t free,” they say,

We know,

Freedom was built on the backs of our ancestors,

With the tears of our foremothers,

The blood of our brothers.

Don’t tell us how to be,

Don’t tell us what to believe,

Don’t speak,

Just listen.

Fear that what little freedom we have suffered for will be stripped away.

Think, don’t just follow suit.

Photo: Alexis Micu
Art: Jasper Johns (Courtesy of The Broad Museum)