Slime of Cain
A river for pews
black water froth and stomp
brown arms stretched forth
impatient, like a whale’s exhale.
piercing the Pacific’s warm skin
Every Sunday I hear them
their praise, a barbarian
tired of waiting, tired of pain,
frustrated, she rocks us to our
foundation, disturbs sands
of memory. Is there joy in just being
I am old enough to remember.
This neighborhood, before invasions
before crack, before helicopters
before 13 year old serial killers
before jazz, before reggae
and all their bastard sons.
Hansberry, peace-weaver,
immigrant, atheist-lesbian
a freshly baked brick welcome.
A swift drifting upon night’s stream
Is this what you truly desired cher
Martin, behold the dark flowers
of your Reformation.
Now they have no leaders -
before the fires, this hall
was Gaelic, catholic, quiet
from the ashes a leggo beast
arose, clutching a dark rose
in its ringed fingers, promising hope.
James, I too have climbed the mountain
I too, have ripped asunder the curtain.
Pharaoh’s Heart
endure—nothing else, just endure. - Franz Kafka, Metamorphosis
Exodus:
a plague of darkness,
today I’ve hunted deer in a forest
their fluorescent antlers, a prayer to God
to rescue them from becoming venison in winter.
Exodus:
a plague of frogs
today, I’ve been bogged down with thoughts
their swampy legs rip open my mouth,
staring at the wall for hours, ignoring calls,
wondering where all the time
has gone, the wrongs I’ve done.
Dear Brother,
today I walked to the Goodwill with a nymph,
in her blue bathing suit who no longer wishes
to be known only for being beautiful.
Exodus:
a plague of killing,
comrade, this year I have buried my communist intentions.
Torn my Castro posters off the wall, burned my Guevara
shirts in a beggar’s drum, replaced them with Reagan
Law and Order circa 1958, bought Dreams from My Father
off Amazon and placed it on my night-table. Took my medicine.
Said my prayers to Mammon, may the memory of J.P Morgan
bless me enough to laser this Lenin tattoo off my chest,
heal my teeth, eyes, buy a pool, to baptize those who invest.
Exodus.
The Goodwill was closed, still it was worth the walk,
the chilly night, traffic lights, walking when signals
show the little white man, like a law-abiding citizen.
She said, “You know I am not from the Judeo-Christian
tradition, my study mostly concerns women’s issues
and equity, to how we are represented, how I am
represented. Do you know the equality vs equity cartoon?”
Dear brother,
Dankey seh di wurl nuh level,
hill an gully yahso,
hill and gully so.
A patient wind blows, chlorine still in her grey hair,
resisting the urge to pick her up, put her on my raw neck,
the throbbing warmth of her thighs and calves, tiny hands atop
the trees of my head, walking this side to the road
so that if any bright truck veers, I can be the first opened,
what bliss it must be, to die a martyr Stephen, Sebastian…Malcolm
Trophy
It is not enough to rend, tear and gouge
one must bring home a scalp, a skull
foreskins, testicles, a tooth to hang between
a maidens breasts, to pay tribute to a king
to be worthy of his eldest daughter, have children
to show the divine inside you,
be worthy of man worship
It is not enough to wear a cloak
burn crosses, appear out of a cloud
made by slaved horses, to burn houses
defile and degrade bodies in the forest
it must be done in the city’s square
among ten thousand
hunting souvenirs, down to the dark nail
It is not enough kill a prophet, stone to
death an adulteress, a whore you just finished inside
see the head roll from the guillotine’ s edge
they must be venerated, entered into the canon
have a day or street named, a plague in a park or statue erected
so they will always remember their place.
Photo Credit: Jennifer Weigel
