Jesus is teaching me how to live In a body that is always dying And yet also a temple that Grows more holy the more I learn to breathe and not See bodies as meat, the more I am a trumpet played by the Wind, not a sarcophagus of Regrets and fears and rage, Because the body keeps score, And everything we do either serves The meat or the breath, even though Almost every Platonist who read Paul Didn’t understand... Read more
This may not be the right question but Are you a character in a book Or a living, breathing fire who Speaks to every prophet even when We use words like shakti and sattva Instead of cross and resurrection? What happens when some words that Are God-breathed give birth to poetry That cannot be written if other words That are God-breathed are presumed to Seal the door shut? What does it mean for None to come to the Father but... Read more
I will arrive when I Can be wrong without shame, When I know that I am Judas And I have kissed Jesus every time Before I give him away and take Whatever silver my ego needs; Judas was fine when vibes were Good, when miracles were on A growth trajectory and the Movement was growing; It was that woman’s waste of Spikenard when he turned; it is When Jesus says I’m wrong and I know I’m right and I’m offended... Read more
I’m gardening alone In my headphones And I get to create An entire universe from Thirty hertz to twenty thousand; This is what it’s like to be God: Perpetual experimentation — No backspace; no going back to erase; There are no mistakes; only Unexpected transitions, Surprise atonalities, and Somehow the fugues always Lock into place; how do two Sounds become lovers once They meet? I can feel them Kissing when my fingers press Down on the keys; but I fall... Read more
We are elves on a secret mission; Our mother has anointed us with dew That permanently stained our trousers After many hours crying deep among The leaves since no one else could see The magic and we had been sent to Sit in the corner for studying things that Fall outside the purview of standardized Testable reality; we were fascinated by our Tongues and our fingernails and our nostrils So we touched everything and somebody Said stop and that made... Read more
You asked for the difference Between a man and a boy And I don’t feel like either Since I’m a diva whose ego Falls limps and swells like A middle school boy each time I’m ghosted or retweeted So much that sometimes I just Want to do the surgery myself So I could have a womb Instead and be a source of Beauty without attachment. But I’m being a man when my Son’s tearful accusations that I’m a terrible... Read more
I can choose which way My river flows. Not every song Obliges me; Not every flower Requires a photograph. There is beauty In the delta; Indecision rich Without boundaries. But I can be a canyon Where water whispers Deep into rock for Eons and travelers Know it is too holy For cameras here. Read more
Now I know what Isaiah did when he was Playing around with fire as a poetic Experiment to see what God Might say through the dancing Of the flames. Somehow he saw A flame that told him his lips were unclean Or maybe the dead skin told him that And he thought what if fire could make My mouth pure so that prophetic fire Would simply shoot out of it without Corruption; so he took some tongs and Grabbed... Read more
I met you once on a bus That was going to Zihuatenejo; You had to get off in Chilpancingo; I made you say it twice because I was enamored with the way that Air vibrates differently out of your Mouth than it does out of mine, just Like your skin is so much darker Than mine; and you were wearing Pink flip flops and you knelt in your Seat the whole time looking out the Window and giggling as I... Read more
Beelzebub was presiding over the Convention of demons he had Gathered to strategize about what New techniques they could use to Continue the entrapment of humanity; They reviewed the success of spectator Sports and Budweiser in sabotaging Class consciousness and solidarity among Those who might otherwise be in the Streets protesting and throwing wrenches In the cogs of the mill that continues crushing The bones of the favela dwellers, but there Seemed to be a new danger; the younger People... Read more
Mercy Not Sacrifice
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