Posted on

here, hear the cry

here i 
       go
again


caught in the 
               middle 
with you

trapped here
between
just
      between


caught in the 
middle
       middle
              middle
man


the middleman
of
      stagnation


the go-between
of
never
      change
never
             grow
never
                  challenge


lost here
in the fog
of 
     almost
and
            maybe
     and
                  that’s too far


here
hear the cry
of 
the moderate


"save
the  
status
quo"

Today I sit with myself, uncomfortably and awkwardly, as I face myself – and my own implicit bias towards a status quo. I am comfortable here – the world does not disown me, or hate me, or turn it’s back from me. I am safe here.

And, you are not – you who are other, different, more-than-human, or simply more. You deserve more and better than this, this deeply white, deeply hetero, deeply capitalist now – this status quo.

Today I begin to unwind a lifetime of sitting with the way things are – too comfortable to make them the way things should be.

Posted on

in betweens

In the 
in between

worlds 

   collide

atoms fizzle
like the tops of 
freshly tapped 
Coke
and their quiet
murmur
plays the sound
of creation

Here 
in the 
in between
language
dwindles
to the powerful
surges 
of energetic
material
vitality
soaring through air
with the 
velocity
of leaves ripped
from branches
in the thickest wind
nowhere to go
but everywhere to 
be

What are
the 
in betweens?
the quiet
      spaces
the massive
      corners
the deep
      silences
filling 
      teeming
           expanding 
through
and 
in 
all that is
and 
will ever 

      be

The in between
cannot be felt
or seen
through crude
      clumsy
            human 
senses 
but must be 
acknowledged
viscerally
through the tiny 
tendrils
of UV light
leaking 
through
us
and around
us
      every 
            second

they must be
recognized
by the heavy 
carbon dioxide 
particles
pushed forth
each
and every
      second
brushing up against
all
the in betweens
and dancing 
their intimate 
tango
with fervor
and 
grace

the in betweens
are here
in these 
vulgar
clumsy
human words
clinging 
to the pixels 
like vines from a tree
swinging 
closing the gaps between
words
between
thoughts
between
all
       that
             matter(s)
Posted on

even little rooms echo

even little rooms echo.
they reverberate
the tiny corners
and lost spaces,
shadows under dust bunnies
resonating with quiet sound
 
they feel so big just then,
the air thick with silent expanding
filling up so full
you’ve never felt that alone
 
I wonder what will happen
when the air is gone
and the dust bunnies pile up
like heaps of trash
and that silent expanding
gets so loud
we can’t drown out the noise
any longer
 
will the lost spaces
crumble
 
will the tiny corners
melt
 
will we be so
alone
we can finally think
about what
we’ve done
 
air is so big
even in a little room