(I need a) Smile

At blogged about this a long time ago.

He titled it Paul Simon Enjoys Subs:

(In case you can't read it, it says:

"The words of the prophets are written on the Subway (sic) walls."

So meta.)

Self Doubt

This city is old, has high expectations. 

It all feels just as overwhelming and 

impossible as it did ten years ago. 

Still... I can bump into more people 

I (used to) know here 

than in the city where 

I actually live now.

_

Anyone's Son

Anyone's Son
by Tara Skurtu

--for the family of Trayvon Martin

This poem wants to write itself backwards.
Wishes it were born memory instead, skipping

time like a record needle stuck on the line
of your last second. You sit up. Brush not blood,

but dirt from your chest. You sit up. You're in bed.
Bad dream. Back to sleep. You sit up. Rise and shine.

Good morning. This is the poem of a people united
in the uniform of your last day. Pockets full

of candy, hooded sweatshirt, sweet tea. This poem
wants to stand its ground, silence force

with simple words, pray you alive, anyone's
son—tall boy, eye-smile, walk on home.

_

Train

He's just a little taller and faster than I am. 

It's kind of perfect for interval training.

I walk fast and then have to run to catch up...

Repeat for six miles through the fields.

About Justice

From Angry Black Bitch, a poetic, impassioned, and Homi Bhabha-like meditation on "rage face" and privilege.

Which brings me back to Rage Face with that shotgun…and his outrage over the very thought of someone taking his gun…and the thousands upon thousands of folks who think he did a great thing because they share his outrage.
His outrage that someone may take his gun.
May take someone’s son.
Could take his gun.
Could take someone’s son.
Are thinking about taking his gun.
Are thinking about taking someone’s son.
In a country where some can load a shotgun two blocks from the Capitol without comment while others get shot for the crime of walking home after buying snacks.

_

O.K. Camp

A couple of weeks ago, the kids were finally at the eco-camps they'd been talking about for about two months. It was kind of a big deal/special year since it was going to be the last year At (14) could go before he aged out and the first time Nu (5) would be old enough to go.

They had a nice beginning to the week, bumping into each other in the cafe, being assigned as buddies (completely randomly, per Nu ;), and then midweek this happened.

On Thursday, deputies, law enforcement officers and a K-9 unit from several area agencies searched the park, the Glen Helen Education Center on State Route 343 and neighboring areas, sheriff’s Maj. Eric Spicer said. The 1,000-acre nature preserve is an entity of the college, located adjacent to the campus.The gunman was spotted near the Outdoor Education Center at Glen Helen at about 11:30 a.m. According to a witness there, the man approached a dorm and when a counselor asked him to leave, the man displayed a gun.“He more or less implied and made a menacing statement to them,” Spicer said. 

It turns out now that the college-aged counsellor had made the whole thing up. And everyone's angry because it was horrifying and also what a waste of tax-payer resource$, etc, etc.

I'm mostly okay with it. Because unlike the nightmares I've had since Newtown, this one case--this one very special case involving my very own children--seemed to have ended well: there was a gunman around the kids; no one got hurt. If we can't prevent men with guns showing up at kids' schools and camps, this should be the way it always ends.

Or the gunmen can be totally imaginary--I'm okay with that too; I could sleep through that.

_

Individual

Oftentimes,
there are four of us
each one abandoned
in this small, hot town

And usually,
the night is so thick
I automatically begin
waving words in the air

Shuffling them
sorting, pantomiming
their sad, wandering odds
until they fall away, decay...

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