that’s not what this is

that’s not what this is

 

 

a package

once opened

past limits

leaves all wires exposed

 

 

a decision has been made

 

 

you were peeled away

and hung there, in a hole

behind the law

 

if you had reached

across, the border

would have grown

to absorb you

 

there is no entry and no

leaving

 

 

in an effort to diffuse

the witness—

 

(never agree to what

you’ve seen)

 

call the word out

as it is,

 

through the reflection,

 

 

through to the ground

 


 

 

 

Resist!

Protect human rights, and basic decency.

Protect all First Amendment rights.

Support the ACLU.

post facto

post facto

 

inhabitable space

behind a word

like freedom

 

will no longer hold

 

now, walls

enclose the walls

 

i ask you to remember

the dancer’s movement

 

outside the confines

of a spotlight

 

free of any stage

or constellation

 

attribute, subjunctive

 

 

if i could begin again

 

 

i’d disrobe the dark

 

write my way through

subjective memory

 

 

i’d arrow me an opening,

and move,

there

 

alternate truth

alternate truth

 

 

the road through concrete

canyon cannot hold

 

 

a voice yells in an alley

candy wrapper

in the grating

wet cardboard box

cigarette

penny

reflection

 

 

all erodes

eventually

 

 

water,

air

find home

beneath asphalt

 

 

 

absent

ideology?—

 

 

“things as they are”

expands

 

 

*

 

 

less an antidote—

 

 

 

 

nourishment

 

*

 

 

algebraic confrontations

clog perception

 

 



Thanks Ms. Kellyann Conway for giving us “alternate facts” this morning. What a vein of gold you’ve given us. To the rest of us: fiercely protect the freedom of the press at all costs.

after the procession

after the procession

 

snow covers the monument

the tree-punctured sky

does not speak

 

an engine grinds

through the heart

of every brick

 

ridiculed to the point

of treason—

 

an avenue is not for walking

 

the ancient city

heaves up its dead

 

in the fliers and posters

that cover concrete walls—

 

the weight–

our armor,

our weakness

 

messages in cursive

 

stare hard at the face

in front of you

to remember

yourself before—

 

the lines and creases

words writhing

 

someone left the door ajar

to instinctive cruelties

 

to get out from the wall—

 

 

once it breaks, it breaks.

notions of distance

notions of distance

 

whispers

 

where the body hurts,

pattern experience

 

an attempt is only to live

as someone else,

to extend—

an outline of the unknown

 

you sound out the remnant

the brief

figure—

 

passing through the room

an apostrophe interlopes

an alphabet

 

the top curvature of a cloud

 

news breaks whether or not

 

arbitrary reading from left to right

and down

 

a distinct echo

 

hands and mouths,

layers of gods

 

lightning from behind the mesa

 

emergent

notions of distance