a complex movement

over and over again
it becomes known
the peace we seek
is seeking us
the joy a full bud
awaiting our attention
justice in our hands
longing to be practiced
the whole world
learning
from within

this thrilling mote in the universe
laboratory
labyrinth

internalize demands
you are the one
you are waiting for
externalize love
bind together us into
a greater self
a complex movement
a generative abundance
an embodied evolution

learn to be here
critique is a seductress
her door is always open
so what if you get some
we are going further
past reform, to wonder
this requires comprehension
that cannot fit in words

out beyond our children
beyond the end of time
there is a ceaseless cycle
a fractal of sublime
and we come to create it
to soil our hands and faces
loving loving and loving
ourselves, and all our places

– 10/25/12, detroit

still of it

i am still of it
this world
full of sorrows

i trace the lines back
from my fingertips
to my heart

the feelings all start with distinction
such unique purpose
only to pool and to pulse together

and i want to un-utter
certain passions
in my cellular structure

i taste on my tongue
her absent kiss,
the three dead names i always called him,
the wet hitch of goodbye
as that failed father enters his prison,
the acidic bite in detroit
gasping as hands tighten at her neck
and they bruise her soil,
and the sharp raging bitter
of gaza
my god, some god, somebody…

can i blame it on the moon
she thinks we are hers
because we are water
with her ink on our spines

can i blame it on mercury
patterning fuckery
is this envy or legacy,
all this human catastrophe

can i recall the prophet
who spoke of joy and sorrow
carving out spaces
from each other’s bodies

why don’t we find out
there is no place outside ourselves
to put this daunting sorrow
while we breath we are still of it

what is the science
for this bent over grief
crying us to sleep
in this solitary cosmos

can i still wonder
feel wonder
when i am still of it

when my breath stops
flood me with joy
i feel room for oceans
here in my veins

for the staten island moores, in grief

for glenda and damian moore, i cannot even comprehend.
for connor and brandon moore, rest in peace.

this goddamn country
sometimes
sometimes it just takes too much

i heard about this woman
running all around in this maze
thinking she was free
just free to keep her children in her arms
but the storm took those babies
then
she thought she was free to cry for help
to wail, inside, behind white doors
help, she just called to anyone
to take her in
to make a room for her to fight for life
to grieve
to bear down through the transition

this country ain’t bethlehem
or any kind of goodnight story
this,
with our black president in tears,
is the state of our union

we are free to buy anything
even in that prison
you can get a hold of just enough
to taste that bit of freedom
on your own sucked tongue
that tingleloin declaration
you are still alive
to suffer the walls

there is also freedom
to learn those things
that will keep you docile
until you forget –
yes you mostly forget
i have seen it –
that you asked about freedom
that you longed to evolve
your life wasn’t a small talk
it was a monstrous awakening

and when you saw injustice
you called him out by his name
you showed him the way
out of your heart

this goddamn country
how can we look in each other’s eyes
over those babies’ bodies
how can we stand with any dignity
when you treat us all like this
and we stay?

talking about freedom
something to teach, fry, export, drop down
in a parachute
or guide in for explosion, by computers
but i really want to know
what freedom

freedom to suffer in silence?
cause they made us hush up
our hands, our languages
freedom to beat our babies?
like they beat us
to break us mind you
to break us
and still we do this
freedom to turn away from suffering
when it huddles in your doorway
bereft
freedom to close the door
and sit in the dark
hoping it all goes away

if i could
i would banish you
from the realm of the selfish
make you forget
the word i
poison you with wonder
and spirit
til you grew mad with love
mad with it
you goddamn country
you self-loathing multitudes
you who have my blood on your lips

just yesterday
just yesterday i came here
and already and again you have broken my heart?

i mean is there a freedom
that we can’t see?
a definitive human freedom
which permeates all of our prisons
the prison of the racist heart
the prison of the victim heart
the prison of those strangers
in staten island
who didn’t know death
when she came to the door
whose souls died when her boys died
and is there a freedom
from that moral death?

can this country
flooded with blood
let go of the
sharp instruments
let go of trying to cleave
us from us
atom from atom
master from slave, inside
inside of us

let go of that whip
chain, trauma and bitterness
let go of the belongings
that sicken your soul
with envy and longing
that you value
over the small stranger full of tears

let go of that

what freedom you might find
in your empty guilty
forgiven hands.

who comes to your door
is the mother of the new world
and somehow
someway
your house
is coming down.

absentee blogger, casual poet

i know i haven’t written much of late. i go through periods where i am living too fast or too deeply for this space, no offense…lately it’s been a combination of both. traveling and healing and being sick and being around babies and looking my future in the face and wondering who i am anymore and remembering and rooting down deeper into my commitments to myself, to Detroit, to my life.

i have been thinking mostly in poems for a bit now, so i have been posting poems here. for those of you who want something else, come back another time, i’m sure i’ll be back to prose in no time.

here are some poems from my 10-poem day last week.

—-

sub-terrain

if i should be
so intoxicated with love
so flattened out
sunlit on your petal
if i should stumble with the headiness
of being in the path
of your smile

if i should fall silent
slurred by the dark musk of that grand intimacy
tilt forward with my
fill of magic
batted at you
lean too close
into the sub-terrain of your neck’s curve

forgive me my love

i have been out seeking home
and here you lay, hearth

i suck that sweet liqueur off your lip
losing the myth of difference
down through a million verdant layers
sap, drizzle
you are the scale of ocean and sun

nothing parchment can bind or separate
such a pure thing
i didn’t even know to long
for such a love

(inspired by an elder’s story)

i went to the grove again
the softest place
away from the lights
that illuminate my bones
for your clumsy artist’s touch

i go where the roots fall all over each other
no one seeking depth
just eternal company

when you have brought blades against me
smiling and pressing
through year after year,

when you couldn’t love the master in me
the goddess
the all powerful in me
the sweet warrior,

i would scrub your dishes
your floors
i would sweep away your messes
bathe your children
and your feet
take your words wrapped in cloth
to unravel over the small fire
the ritual i offered
to the trees
whom i held
and wept into
getting the love
i needed

post-nationalist

america
i see another continent in you
i see the plains covered with a people’s prayer for grain
under a rug of synthetic lawns
a Sahara
with your own band of Bedouins

i see an old man atop a horse
at full gallop
after a terrified buffalo, so alive

i see deep breadths of space
great walls and ridges
i see abundance in you
in sunkissed roads
that all lead to moonrise
and harvest

i have blood in your soil now
i can’t ignore your total desire

i see rivers opening up and down your thighs
as you continue to never say no
at least
not to mean it

someone has you
under his calloused thumb
to think you are some foreign land
something different
from the world

but my love
i see in you that same dust
distracted by stars and myths of tomorrow
i see you clustered up
fenced up
hemmed up and penned up
longing for yourself
in another
faith held in the potential
of your eldest lover
his greed
bruised fingers and nightshade
all over your sumptuous flesh

you still believe it
someday he will love
without breaking

i see a whole woman in you
America
operatic landscapes conducted by god
fjord’d, tundra’d, scraped and blasted away
but unashamed
to let the sun fill your hunger

i see your dinosaur years
when the steps were heavy
but not so deep

i see your human years
such laughter and violation

i see your healing cycles
all alone,
and frigid

i see you always changing
dropping off into forever
rising up as if you mean to fight

my love
don’t you know yet
who you are?

i see you whole
no borders, no walls
the beauty under your armor
the abundance
that comes through your suffering

i see another continent in you
i see the taut skin that begs for drumbeats
held on every side
by her arms
Yemaya

i see you offering up your roots
opened up
the salt and dirt
the hatred of self
the vulnerable cities
huddled together
terrified you might survive
but be alone

end the tantrum now my love
you are vast
you are only
you are beloved
you are powerful enough
you have enough
a million times over

the desert is full of life
America
that is all that you are

and yes
even now
you
the devastating one
are loved
without condition

love is an emergent process

i stand before my love
and let the tendrils unfurl
in every direction
i am whole
and becoming

time is one instance
examining itself
mirrors
seeing each other
and blushing
into eternity

i am the ant
who carries grandfather to the grave
in my palms
you lift the next day’s meal
enough for everyone we know
we in rhythm
leaving home
and returning
on the wind

love can’t look away from itself
vibrating in the cell
fluttering breathless
into sustained migration

i feel you
like dust feels water
and remembers
the home galaxy

it appears nothing is new
never was
and nothing is truly massive
when seen in its wholeness

until i took this breath
repeating the miracle
i didn’t know i would say it
could not have known…

i look to the sky
taste the wind on my tongue
and fling myself
into the pattern

when i forget –
when i think the end is near
i realize my insignificance
as important as yours
and begin
to love
again

Padawan

i never sleep while i’m flying
it’s still such a new knowledge
i don’t yet trust myself to the sky
to the constant wind

i feel the rhythms of my comrades
that intimate biology
as we crest on a change
lean in
and drop

we’re going to that unknown place
and we all feel her calling

i never sleep while i’m flying
i’m still pressed up against the window
telling myself
it’s a breathless height

i feel the sweet
hush hush hush
let my fingers run that cloud length
then this one
an eternity of curvings

we defy the heart of the world
teasing back against her pull
held aloft
perhaps
by imagining we can fly
when we are falling