Wayfarer,
walk with me
down the open, crumbling road.
We’re two surviving souls--
billion year old
molecules binding
our hearts, muscles,
bones and nerves winding--
let us go back to the beginning,
before the time of sinning,
to the start of our creation,
before government or nation,
to find the garden and lose regarding--
regain our innocence.
The sun, rain and wind will test us--
we’ll build shelters of hides and bones,
pick berries and sharpen knives with stones,
play bone flutes and gut-stringed lutes,
and **** nothing without reason
and prepare for each change of season.
We’ll take our water from the glacial melt.
Our fashion will be the furry pelt.
Of course, we’ll remember poem and song--
for they were never wrong;
art was blameless.
It was the only thing
“Civilization” left us.

We’ll spark fire with pegs and strings
whirring, friction, small kindlings
into fire; we'll sit round and tell our history--
marvel at our ancestors’ folly, what mystery...
We’ll write dramas and dance;
we will honor this second chance.
English we will remember.
And French and Arabic, Latin and Hebrew.
We’ll start a new language, or two.
We’ll wash and sew condoms from intestines;
this time, what we’ll invest in
will be sustainability.
No need to propagate the earth--
it is fruitful enough already.
Only to be in harmony, a place neither above, nor below, others--
the animals and plants, who are our sisters and our brothers.

if it is not possible for you to have a dialogue about whiteness being a mental illness
after and during the actuality of slavery
pick one of the fields of study
within the dissociation of whiteness
to keep you occupied
until further notice

this country
America
has a lot to learn
from those that have survived
the making
and unmaking
of whiteness
this existential
exponential
build up
of advocacy
for noticing humanity
when it steps out of line

Every morning I go underneath the Earth
I leave the trees behind to walk upon concrete
A utopia of green and blue
For a dystopia of gray and black
Trying to maximize my worth
A weekly void to fill
Means to survive
Off of hands I do not want touching me
They have the tightest grip around my throat
More is not enough
Everything I have I turn over
To breathe air that they poison
Drinking the water they have polluted
I scream and I shake and I cry
How can they do this?
Why is everyone okay with this?
Do we have no say?

Blind power
I look around me
You are all staring at a small screen
A device they have handed you
You even paid them for it
And now it distracts you
From the poison they feed you
A revolution! Please, I beg
Around me blank stares
She wore it best, he's dating that *****
Wake up I plead
There is no power left of the people
Willing wrists
To be cuffed