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Bronxland Beautiful

My nature loving
heart was born inside of this Bronxland
beauty

Cradled between whispering rivers
salty ocean and blue sky
in between sirens and starling song
Bronxstrong / wind in my bones
brick colored breeze in my blood
long searches for nature
only footsteps away
to writing poetry by the Bronx River
meditating in the silent cosmos
Woodlawn Cemetary in the spring
surrounds itself and blossoms with pink blossoms
dogwoods and cherry blossoms

You cannot paint away this beauty with stigma,
bury it in stereotypes, cloud it with Fort Apache smoke

There was that too
smoke for days and in my 1970s childhood
there was also the river where my Earth Goddess grandmother
held my hand to lead me home time after time



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Go Eagles

You are listening to the recap
Of last night's football game
On the high frequency speakers
Of your cell phone
You are sitting next to me
At the coffee shop
And I can hear talk of tight ends
Over the You've Got Mail soundtrack
Which, yeah, is a weird choice
For the coffee shop to pipe in
It would seem that
They are on a You've Got Mail kick
They were playing it yesterday, too
And, yeah, the high frequency voices
Of the straight women on the other banquette
Are also grating and terrible
But that's not the point
The point is, Sir, I hate you.
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Family man

In the summers our dad would wake us each morning
Singing over the loudspeaker 
I’m sure he would have loved to be a cult leader
And father figure to a family of 7 was close
But we wouldn’t follow him
He undermined himself
Struck neither fear nor love in our hearts
Yes, at times he set us to work on his visions-
Demolishing the walls of an abandoned house up the hill 
That he said would be ours,
Sending us to school in “Ask me about Super Blue Green Algae” pins
Promoting his pyramid scheme,
And chores and 
chores and 
chores
But mostly his charisma wasn’t aimed at us 
Except in the moments he lurked in the piano room
As the tickle monster waiting in cover of darkness
He’d seize us and 
We’d shriek in pure terror
rimmed with delight
To be dangled above the abyss —
To cry for mercy —
To wonder if our pleas would fall on deaf ears —
And knowing we didn’t hold the power 
To tow the line
And stake our bodies as our own sovereign territory
In those moments we might have been captured
And turned against the world at large
But somehow we were let to pass
Up the stairs to sleep
Protected in each other’s arms
To be woken by a voice through the wires 
That we need not heed. 




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HUMIDIFIER

It’s raining all day.
Still, we set it up for her.
Humid, in and out.

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Warm Bodies

it’s when we get under the covers
i realize how cold my feet are
rubbing them together doesn’t
create warmth fast enough
so
i turn myself sideways
to place my feet against yours
really upon yours
yours like
pressing against the perfectly tempered stone
of the living room fireplace
the house i grew up in
and your warmth runs through
me
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Mercy


Our porch rungs.
Chipped yellow paint: cold, hard egg yolks.
Some replaced with bare, blond wood.
Falling towards the street forever.
Stapled back into place.

Stasy and Camden are putting out beads.
Shiny plastic, yellow green and gold.
Camden can’t take his skateboard to the street.
He’ll go inside to scold Sapphire,
who yelps and yelps and never learns.

I did not plan for this today.
For Stasy to knock—she never does.
Except for once when I left the car lights on.
This time with a strand of rainbow beads. Gay pride,
she says, as if she had accidentally received my mail.
I did not plan for this, and I thank her, and I close the door and I breathe and-
I am struck by what love feels unbearable.

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Mad For It

I love yer, only wanna do right by yer,
right by yer, loving yer,

 Just waiting for a racist chant,
flesh out their justification,
go on, I dare 

 yer
pipe down,
it was just a stranger in a crowd,
it don't mean anything,
just let im bleed the radiator,
don't get involved,

it ain't nuffink,
I love yer.
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