Wednesday, April 15, 2015

Three Poems

Where I come from

In the place
Where I come from
There was a school
Just down the street.
A girl got pregnant
They made her stand
In front of class

For her behavior”

Another who was gone one day
“Where, tell, did he go?”
One asks it without interest, “Oh, --
His dad found out he’s gay”

Not things one
Likes to recall
They were and are, to me
The reason for the scalding rage
That keeps me on my feet

I will try not to
Forget them, for
Ugly as they are

They came from
The very place
That is the place I come from


One time
I was sick with fever and
Could not sleep and when I
Closed my eyes I
Noticed that
My thoughts were spilling, splitting
Half-words made eery sense – I
Could follow thoughts as if
Different chambers of my mind were lighting
Occupied by people fighting
Muttering insanely then
Lights go out
Audio returns but now in
Different groove
Action too has all been moved
Into another chamber like some
Broadway set –
Very soon I
Lost the sense
Of whether words were storing
Up in chambers of my mind, or pouring
Directly from my mouth

For the first time I could see

How easy it would be

To move into that set –
That record groove –
And not come back


I trust the first-hand
Anger, Not
The third- or fourth-hand
Derived from pretty pamphlets
Instruction Guides
The Lady’s Home Bombmaker
12 Ways to Really Liven Up Your Napalm
Revolutionary Tchotchkes
To put beside your Trotskys
I really do not trust those who
(The point needs some restating)--
Take people into rooms and keep
Them there while they proceed to beat
Them while their eyes are terrified
Thinking it could not have happened 
Was not possible, nor real—
I do not trust governments
Nor adversaries thereof
Nor any of the United States's
Enemies, nor

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