Day 22 of 30

(the truth is, i hate this poem. but i’m stuck. the only poem truly necessary is…THANK YOU. I’m so sad. But I feel so lucky to have lived when he lived. to have experienced his gift. to know that his work is tethered to my psyche and soul forever. rest well.)

give us starfish and coffee too
a beautiful one in computer blue
a sign that somehow  we’ll someday have you back

and until you come let us dance like bats
on red corvettes in fancy hats
unsure of what we’re supposed to do
while purple fades to black

Day 21 of 30

(for the students who staged the incredible protest Brendan and I were allowed to be part of at a high school in Brooklyn yesterday)

bottle rocket babies
locked in safes unsafe
buried beneath belittling
eventually explode

fuses aint but so long

besides they were
made to be tectonic
fireworks that scream
and star and spark
into the ether
and the ethos
of the
who will someday
shake and wobble
their legs will wishbone
as the quo violently splits

and bottle rocket babies
the minors
will be miners
of their own fire
though always
always blamed for a fault
line they had no part
in creating

Day 20 of 30


and in the morning
i smell the
night funk
surfing past my nostrils
the sleep rolling off
my skin like
sexy satin robe

the day is nude
the night is bashful
and i
stretch my arms
and make halo over my
own head
and smirk

Day 19 of 30


tonight i am
tired so tired

so tired
i could dissolve
into static wall
of zeroes and ones
and x’s and y’s
into white noise
of blackness
bone coma
death breath

have you ever wanted sleep
to eat you?
to crush you under the weight
of its warmth?
have you ever wanted
so bad
so bad
to feel
its tongue on your neck
like a new acquaintance’s
first attempt at becoming

Day 18 of 30


two days ago i saw
a gymnast

do a frontflip onto a balance beam
a jump up in the air thing
and came down in a split
then bounced back up
james brown style
tip-toed spinny thing
like a badass ballerina
strutted to the edge
stopped spun spun again
threw her arms up
smiled smiled smiled
stopped smiling
took off sprinting
threw herself into
cartwheel then into
blackflip then into
i don’t even know what
off the balance beam
up in the air
twisting like a gold coin
flicked by God’s thumb
landing like she aint
do nothing but step
off a damn curb

and it was perfect
to me

but they ain’t score it
like that

and yesterday
i saw my mother
sitting on her bed
massaging her calves
soaking her feet
wincing wincing wincing
and then she noticed me
looking and

smiled smiled smiled

Day 17 of 30


when men yell rape
no men yell liar
especially when
they’re raped by men

but women yell rape
which then sets fire
to claims that claims
are paper thin

and i don’t deem
all men as fools
but sometimes I
sure wish i could

for it does seem
that privilege rules
and bias barks
in victimhood