I'm standing firm and
you're a rock.
The plinth is fracturing.
Your filter isn't
filtering
but at least it caught
this poem.
My tongue is angry!
I have a snake in my shoe.
I'm in a funk:
Why aren't we rising up
Like a thunderhead
Like a new brain in a
petri dish?
A heart-shaped leaf
is waving in the breeze.
A lavender-tinted cow
stands behind me.
She is my ally.
A bird caught in a
spider's web
who I free just in the
nick of time
is announcing an event
to a girls' soccer team.
And they are listening.
I'm re-schooling myself.
My teachers were all
afraid of me.
They were afraid of their
own subjects.
The tests were all
slanted toward
Submission and
prostitution.
My car broke down
and wept.
I ate wild grapes like a
bear.
I translated one single
tear
Into nine languages.
I saw my face in the Rorschach
of a stain
on a subway window.
And what is more, I saw
your face.
And yours.
And then the people came.
Up and through and over
and in and with and
without,
alone and in droves.
With dreams.
With bitter stories.
Without passports.
Tatooed and branded,
covered and naked.
Some animals came along
As translators.
There was going to be a
council,
but where?
This world has no space.
All the land is private
Or slated for upheaval.
We made a clubhouse under
a bush.
The bird from the web and
the cow came under.
And an old man with a
beard with bells
dressed in a filthy sheet
Wearing a sign saying
they had impounded his car.
And a million others:
Neruda with his serious
eyes,
Gandhi was there and
Jesus and Punch and Judy
and even a clown with a
big harmless hammer.
And I looked around
for the girls' soccer
team.
And way up I saw the
angels glittering,
up about 4000 feet.
All I could see was their
glitter
But they didn't come any
lower
but at least they were
curious.
And I thought,
This is pretty close
To how I always knew it could be.
You have to begin
somewhere.
Under a bush with
millions.
We've got to start
somewhere;
if you make it here,
you're welcome.
Viva fuerte!
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