going to school right next to a fire station is scary
if something burned here we have procedures
but hearing the exit every time
becomes a blaring awareness
the world is burning elsewhere
*stanza for the sirens
ORIGINAL TASTE
when you consume at high rates
the similarities can’t be ignored
certain distinctions grow and others minimize depending on preference
*stanza for the soda can-ish
circadian rhythms syncopated just enough
to imagine tetherball.
played between a lightning rod
connotations shouldn’t come at ten pm but I can’t count my ceiling lines with the lights off
*stanza for when sleep should replace thinking
a crowded overpass
a living wage
please and thank you.
a new definition of scab
s t r i k e
not “bowling alone”
a collective celebration
more than money
*stanza for the picketers
an oblong handle
looped with thread
stained with black tea
infused with guava
*stanza for holding grip
the blue light world
let’s actually give a sh!t about each other
firehose of falsehood, more like stupidity
these are people & my people & my people
no one can take your citizenship from you
*stanza for those that shared their words
chocolate chip cookies are my favorite model for extraction
the aftermath is a few crumbs
& eating the cookie does nothing to the global energy market
*stanza for when I’m craving cookies too early
when my teacher asks what I’ve learned about democracy:
congress abdicates its power
americans don’t want kings
literacy is not even close to everything.
*stanza for the 8 pm deadline
the fire alarm went off
it was a drill.
what do alarms sound like otherwise
when the end result is a ‘living hell’ at the whim of a man dismissive of war crimes?
do they sound the same?
*stanza for the questions
thinking about the way my speech dysarthria is qualified with mild
like the salsa
& the alternative is “pronounced”
*stanza for the average wpm
pt. 2—
click.
when the speech is unabashed violence
click.
when the prayer is “On Earth, as it is in Heaven”
f*** it he says
the wish is hell
*stanza for when the words do not surprise me
slice—
salted
sitting at a counter in one of those full chair stools
impending ambivalence
if the click doesn’t follow
click.
*the stanza for when I read something new to me