on its way to a hip’s ball/ and socket
Category: Poetry
Once, existence was on/full speed, catching rumors.
Greek amphorae sprouting branches in the toboroches/ and Dante’s whole paradise embodied in a dragon fruit
Cut right in the middle
America ignored dogs
splinters floods tears/the people who’ve had citizenship for/over a hundred years.
dark people mark a place as dangerous or destitute, the word/ jawn marks a place people gloss over on their way to DC
And not one protection/ has come to them/ nothing sound.
“Easier to say, there/are too many poets and there aren’t enough rebels.”
In the city that some used to call the Seattle of Italy, nowadays you can only overdose on poetry.
