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Here dead we lie
Because we did not choose
To live and shame the land
From which we sprung.

Life, to be sure,
Is nothing much to lose,
But young men think it is,
And we were young.
Break down, forever crumbling.

microscopic sand brushes my skin like ashes

of dead ones poured onto Mother Gaia.

It whispers with the wind, I am still here remember me.

We both meet at the spot we agreed to unite at different times.

Does that devalue our promise?

One day we’ll get it right.

But for now, I write you into oblivion.

Seems less than what I dreamed of but my dresses

keep falling apart. I have become a seamstress.

I strive to prepare for that chance, where you will see my body

flowing and all things manifest.

Weaving destiny and intention into clothing

I offer to the Gods for my puzzle piece.
 Apr 2013 Emma N Boyer
brooke
I tell her:
you will not
be ugly if you
cut your hair

because when
she was small the
kids called her
fat and the

boys called her a
boy which was
okay but not

so this long hair
was a rebellion
as she proclaimed
i really am a girl

i really am a girl

i really am a girl


won't you believe me?
(c) Brooke Otto
Wake Up Wretched World,

I assert my Indigenous heritage
I self identify
With the ancestors of my continent

Identity afraid to articulate
Culture, unknowingly belonging to me
Cycle of shame now shattered

Product of love, hatred, lust, and desire
europeans plundering my mother Latin America
In chaos and violence, my skin's pigment
Has been engineered through the mestizaje
Of my Indigenous forefathers

How could I not forget my lineage
When the historical legacy of modernization
Has been to massacre the consciousness
Of where my people really come from

Erasing indigenous pride
Making Paisano and Indio
Synonymous with poverty and alienation
Insulting the humbleness
State of hunger you've left us in

Original lineage within me disturbed
So you push me to ambiguity and embarrassment
Not white, not indigenous?

Pure indigenous brothers and sisters silenced
Not an exploitable consumerist market, not in your campaigns
Not benefactors of your philanthropic development tactics
Bodies too costly to abuse, no reason to bring them
Into the neoliberal multinational corporate circuit

Constantly driving them off productive land
Because they choose to assert their identity
Live in collective communes, not owing you nothing
Waiting for them to make barren lands productive
So you can take those lands too

Not capturing an obscure history, these are not colonial times
This is the legacy of the european presence entering mother Latin America
21st century still defiling Indigenous cultures to civilize and modernize
March 14, 2013
Feeling weirdness and warmth
Tingling, everywhere inside
Like something's being born

Just one kiss like a spark
Igniting young hearts' hope
A joy, a desire, a new need

This is young love

Me hugging my pillow
Wishing it was you

You holding me once
For me to wish
I'd be in your arms forever

Being wild and free
Just one kiss
And I've fallen in
January 4, 2013
 Apr 2013 Emma N Boyer
Kq
You do this thing
Where you look at the side of my face
Or some other random part of my flesh
When I am speaking

I know you are listening
And if I catch you
You look away sheepishly

At first
I thought you to be socially awkward
But then I became extremely self conscious
"Do I have a blemish?"

Then it occurred to me
That you were doing the same thing I always do
Taking a person in

You were memorizing every part of me
And branding it into your mind

And in this moment
You transformed in front of my eyes
And your insides seemed to spill out in front of me

I understood you
and accepted you
and you were beautifully ignorant
To all of this occurring right before you

And that made the realization all the more enchanting

— The End —