To the sycamores, redwoods, pines, firs, and sweetgums
Unwitting adventurers
Who have seen more of the universe than I
Or the bravest sailor or mountaineer.

Tell me your secrets, I beg.

You dare to stand tall and brave
Untouched by a trauma
You can scarcely recall
From a trip 'round the moon.

I am the seed you once were.

Taken from my homeland.
Denied the comfort of soil.
Weightless, wanting, and
Utterly unable to return.

How can you stand there
As if you were always at peace?
How can you be grounded
Having touched the universe?

We don't want the world.
No one asked for this.
There's only so many walls,
So many scales and shells
And piles of warm blankets.
So many deep breathes
And shallow pursuits.
We can only scream so loud
And quietly dread
And wait for the ending.

There I was, as a child, sat
Beneath the willow tree
Beside the pool
Near the badminton court
While soft branches swayed down
Wisping onto the neighbor's yard
Like the gentle caress
Of a lover's touch
Or the fall of your hair
As you lean down for a kiss
In the pool of pillows
Where I make my nest

A child then and a man now
I love it in your shade

Abolish the police for crimes against us
(Go further; to the root)
Abolish the prisons that enslave us
(Go further; to the root)
Abolish the Guard turned against us
(Go further; to the root)
Abolish the army primed to stop us
(Go further; to the root)
Abolish the chief who rails about us
(Go further; to the root)
Abolish the laws that sanction “justice”
(Go further; to the root)
Abolish the state unjustly above us
(Go further; to the root)
Abolish the capital propping them up
(Go further; to the root)
Tear down their factories choking us
(Go further; to the root)
Crush the billionaires into dust
(Go further; to the root)
Abolish the voice inside of us
That tells us the world simply “must”

We will never forget the names of those
Who should have been known for so much more.

Sandra Bland. George Floyd. Tamir Rice. Riah Milton. James Scurlock. Rem'Mie Fells. Breonna Taylor. Too many to name. 400 years.

We remember them for all they could have been.
Not martyrs. Murdered.
People living and then gone forever.

White supremacy is not poetic. It is a blunt instrument.
We must fight it every day.

On summer days,
Still wet from thawing, I bloom
Into the person that I love
With all my heart, I sing
And laugh and race around the fire
On summer nights when my arms
Ache from a day of heavy living
My feet are light and my skin ripens
And I think, finally, "I am me"
And I pause to consider the grey,
Cold drudgery that consumes
This man for too many months.
I would weep for him, but
Cannot catch my breath in the sun

All the world is sorrow
As we force our eyes
To read the names
Of all we have lost

All the world is restless
Like a tape stuck
In a stunted spiral
Waiting to begin again

The world is dying
And so are we
One by one it takes us
And the list grows long