calle 11
I love I hate losing control.
Everything balanced on your palms. You are the composed one,
After all. Stand so cool make me fall like a mad woman.
Graze my lips with fingertips between white rusted gates.
Time dulls memory blades, dillutes rum, dries dark blood,
A yellow bike rusts in the rain.
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stranger
i am repulsed by all her femininity
her breasts, her wide hips, her sturdy thighs
all that gives her substance and dimension
all the ways in which she occupies space
and all her parts are painfully familiar
this is because i live trapped inside
all of these painfully familiar parts
but they feel foreign, i don’t own them
i refuse to own or accept them as my own
i don’t love them or trust them
the way a person should love and trust
the vessel that houses their soul
I look in the mirror and all I see is
the thick trunk that supports my tree tall frame
sometimes i try to find the beauty and
pretend my size means strength, pretend
that i am a descendant of the Amazons…
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home videos
a faded home video causes time to stop
a child is waiting with her infant sister
she turns to the camera with apple round
cheeks from her uncontainable smile
she’s going to meet mickey mouse
but as she gets closer her smile turns
and she nervously looks at the person
standing behind the camera, imploring help
it’s her turn and she starts to shake her head
the cap is put back over the lense but
you can still hear a stern voice saying
“don’t be silly, we’ve waited in line for an hour”
and a much smaller voice starts to cry and says
“don’t make me go alone”
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popsicle
I wish I was a popsicle
that could (drip) melt
(drop) and evaporate
(drip) into nothing
(drip drip)
but a cherry (drip)
pink (drop)
stain (drip)
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unpacking
granted
the past few days
have been strange
thinking about how a year ago…
well, a year ago was different
that’s all
but I was thinking of something else
something, someone completely different
and then I thought of you
and my chest started to ache a little
and I don’t really know why
Maybe it’s because of all the damn boxes
boxes everywhere so that no matter what
everything will look cluttered
until I finally unpack it all
even though I don’t see much of a point
I’ll just pack it up again
more boxes
Maybe it’s because I already feel like I’m losing
things, friends, parts of myself
Maybe it’s just because I’m looking for reasons to be sad
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activist
We made our way downtown today
To the Vietnam memorial on Wabash
To listen to the VVAW and the IVAW
Things I didn’t even know existed yesterday
But now…now
NOW
everything is different
Elise searches for peace rallies and poetry readings
I’ve started to have opinions about things
(finally)
and everything is different
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sleep
My bones are cement and my muscles are bags of sand
My body pushes against my mattress and the mattress pushes back
I am sinking into this bed because everything is too heavy to move
my limbs are infected with a weighty, crushing sort of sleep
and consider the consequences of never leaving my ocean of sheets
I think about how I forgot to set the alarm
and decide that i don’t really care.
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There is something terrifying
About these uncharted seas
Tumultuous, unpredictable
The waves oscillate and mimic
The rising flutter in my chest
Mixed with excitement and
Mixed with adventure
Its depths spark my curiosity
I let myself fall into the water
And hold my breath
And wait…
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untitled…for now
Something inside me tore
Not a break or a snap
But a ripping of seams
Not suddenly but slowly over time
Gossamer fibers separated from too much tension
Each day more divided and vulnerable
Each day further frayed
We beings learn of our fragility
Far too late to protect ourselves
That was before
Now, the scent of dead leaves
Fills the halls and permeates our skin
So even in the midst of healing
The odor still lingers as a reminder
And as the threat of the horizon draws near
There will be a new tear
An external ripping that
Helps repair the tear beneath the surface
Four hundred voices rise to signify
Both an end and a beginning
And shiny black birds take wingless flight
Into the tepid spring air
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the park at night
The sun sets and the city,
Ceaselessly in motion, is shaded blue
There is a triangle shaped park
Where trees protect the sacred ground
From the speed of the pavement world
In the darkness you have to strain
To see the resting ones on benches,
And others in clusters, talking, seeking warmth
They are shadows in the deep blue calm,
Who go unnoticed by the wakeful night life
If perceived, they are avoided
They say “Stay away from the park at dusk”,
Because people fear the unknown
And in the busy D.C. madness
Few have time to know anything but routine
But if, by chance, one finds the time
Or if, by choice, they make the time
Perhaps the scales would fall from their eyes
So they would not see looming shadows,
But rather Steve, Whistle-man, and Angel Perry
They come from all over
Different regions of the city, of the nation
Some are victims of gambling and drugs
Some have simply had more than their share
Of misfortune and tragedy
They have lost luck and money,
They have lost homes and loved ones,
They have been abused and dehumanized
But they understand the things
That others are too distracted to see
Michael escaped the social trap
From which few break free
But when the sun sinks into the blue shadows
He returns to his brethren in the park
To say hello, or just sit a while
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