i found
the place

at the end
of the world

where all
the birds
go to die

the ones
that fall
without
notice

carcasses
feathers
and bones

knee
deep on
the ground

i could
not bear
for you
to see it

so i ate
the map 
 

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squeezed
between
her knees
upright 

her fingers
walking
my spine 

my tight
nerves
quiver
beneath
her bow 
 

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my father
killed in war.
does it skip
a generation? 

under certain
circumstances,
i could kill,
crack, like
struck stone. 

now my son
prepares for war,
splitting slowly,
a wet seed
with deadly
fruit and flower. 

would he
be spared,
if i killed
someone? 
 

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show me
an ugly
mary
without
flawless skin
and bone
to drain us
of our lusts

i will hoist
her above
my head
and carry
her through
the streets
like a trophy
bride
 

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i painted my face white
and lived among them
many years, i sang
their songs, and ate
their food, and wore
their clothes, to fit in,
i suffered their shame,
the indignities, to see
what it was like, to be
white in this country.

and now, i’m coming
out, like the morning
sun, do you see
the dazzling beauty
of my rainbow face,
the shattered light
like a pane of glass
that scatters
its hard cut jewels
on a white oak floor,
see how they free
the color from
this place, can you
behold my glory!?

     "see now my opulences,
       hundreds of thousands
       of varied divine and
       multicolored forms"
         -- Bhagavad-Gita 11:5
 

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when I rose up
on hind legs

i gained the use
of my hands but

lost my sense of
smell, my cortex

bloomed a wild
bouquet of fears

and desire
scant fragrances

of futures past
 

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new pine grown for
harvest in neat rows 
like stones at arlington

stand where old growth 
forest used to be, a single 
cut will fell them in one 

day to make coffins from
the wood of their own tree
 

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sudden
or expected

always
the same

a bleeding
in the brain

a stray
car or

random
bullet

with their
name

as we
remain

to walk
upon

the earth
dancing

on their
grave
 

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buddhist monks
pack the streets
 
like pomegranate
seeds to crunch
 
between the teeth
of the regime
 
how does it taste
to be so free!?
 

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fur grown wild
on face and
neck hiding
a vacant smile

only the short-
haired dog on
his lap seems
to cringe at the
cold and damp

her sad eyes
saying this
is no way for
a dog to live
 

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big sun rising
blinding golden
bright across
the small lake

i can almost
enter its shining
gate if i could
walk on water

just a short way
 

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a sea
of white
and red

flags
float
like

poppies
blooming
dead

above
the lawn

i go
home

to cut
my nails

which
keep
growing

after these
are gone
 

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i am the
antelope
whose flesh

the lion
tears apart

while yet
alive, from

breath to
breath one

dying note
one beating

heart, my
blood pours

down her
throat
 

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here
and there
the earth
turns red

an open
wound

giving
back the
blood
we shed

weeping
for her
children
 

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what
was i
saying?

between
the time of
forgetting and
remembering
i can forget
again and
again

what
was i
saying?
 

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a thousand fingers
of piercing light
reach for me
in the night sky

tickle my ribs
with their blast

like everyone else
i sit in the grass
at the center
of this explosion
 

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somewhere

oil leaks
from a ruptured pipe

blood spurts
from an open vein

i cannot
stanch the bleeding

though i try
 

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quills press
my tender flesh

roots rip
from my skin

you have no
idea how much

it hurts when
you touch me
 

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side
of face
hacked
off by
shrapnel
like a
shell

scram-
bled
brain
on a
half-
skull
raw

you
can’t
make
history
without
breaking
eggs
 

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there used to be
a sign on my house
it said “i slept here”
i know because
i painted it myself
though the letters
had faded so no one
could read them

last night someone
took the sign away
it was a perfect day
to walk the streets
hunting stray bullets
where is the crazed
gunman when you
really need him?
 

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