Oh no

Why why why

this mess

what a mess

that we never cleaned up

America

you’ve torn off your robe

you’ve smeared your blood

all over the world floor

called nature your own

people’s skin a tapestry

for meaning for meaning

why

when we ought to ask how

how

do we get back home?

 

April 28, 2017

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Sitting at LACMA

We are never stuck in ourselves

my feet planted on concrete

connected to ambivalent sky

as the trees sway to the rhythm of wind

that played on my ancestors’ cheeks.

 

June 13, 2015