An Afternoon
His death is hanging
on me like a scratchy
wool noose while I’m
standing on gravel
in the shade of a tree
covered by parasites
thriving, full flesh
green to the highest
“I Pledge Allegiance to the Christian Flag”
As senators droned on Capitol Hill last Wednesday in a formal attempt to confirm
the electoral college votes from each state in favor of President-Elect Joe
Biden, a crowd of Trumpers
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My Own “No Name Woman”
“No one said anything. We did not discuss it.” This is an apt summary of a
haunting tradition in Eastern honor-shame culture: silencing disgrace. In “No
Name Woman,” taken from her book The
And All Shall Be Well
This is the poem that doesn’t begin,
that knows no ending, just keeps rounding the bend
of middle, the bending and the rounding continuing ad infinitum,
as four-part harmony, long-winded, front-pew Baptist
it ain’t a choir #82 + it ain’t a choir #84
it ain’t a choir #82
as always there are two roads severing the art from the state or smothering the
state with the art here put your hands here use your weight