Circles

At circle the children are eager 

to share who is dead - PopPop, Grandpa Joe, Mima -
And his red curls shaking, he tells
my mom is dead,
yes and my dad is dead.
I am dead too.
But the after-school teacher tells Chase,
When he asks, How did Martin Luther King die?
He was very old, he lived a long time and then he died. 
39 is so young to be so old.
During nap time Chase
plays with dolls in the office.
They are always turning 36.
Stay a bit,
Sing Happy Birthday,
He pleads

1400 degrees and rising

I.

You hated make-up

on me.

Scarlet lips bred

suspicion.

False advertising at best.

So of course,

You were above all of it.

A proper viewing.

An air-brushed face

with Kardashian contouring.

(You could have done it better on Photoshop)

A slim three piece suit--don’t even get me started.

A non-crossed eye 

portrait photo under dim lights.

Collages like a bad science project display

made with my blurry eyes and shaky hands.

A bowl of butterscotch candies
to remind us that life can be sweet.

Grandpa Joe (the one with the shared hairline)

donated his body to SCIENCE

even though he was a man of GOD

for those few years.

The same one who swam across the Hudson

for a bottle of whiskey

and still enjoyed the curves of every waitress

in tight black pants as he rounded 90.

II..

The eyelids were never sewn shut

your eyeballs shifty in its sockets.

1400 degrees

rising and rising

three hours later

thy will be done.

But I ask “Will it hurt?”

dreamt that the new equipment repairman
from the photo studio where i work
and i were in a supermarket in suburban
cleveland, trying to photograph
a brand new equipment cart with a 4x5 camera

he said he thought he had it and wandered away
i started to play with the thing
accidentally exposed his last plate
which was still in the camera
before i could reshoot the cart, the dream shifted

and i was with the rest of my family in the house
my aunt and uncle were moving into in suburban
cleveland.  spacious, with rooms ranging from
cozy to opulent, at least three stories
more byzantine than sprawling

i spent hours trying to find my way around the place
(still hoping to reshoot the cart)
while the others listened to stories about house shopping
and about the former owners, who had been plant
nursery billionaires (their big home decorating trick
was to keep in close proximity
plants that competed for the same polinators)

wednesday night

sweaty
sore
tight muscles
too tired to stretch
sipping seltzer
on the couch
too dehydrated to drink the wine you want to drink
the 60 pound puppy rests it's head on your lap
breathing deeply with defeated sighs
the cat sits stoically on the counter
overseeing it all
the tv on
but no one is watching

Isle Exile, for Oscar Lopez Rivera

Isle Exile

(for Oscar Lopez Rivera, on your 73rd Birthday)

Free in captivity

Your voice cannot be silenced, Oscar

You’ve taught us, what it is to be free

Your voice, amplified by our outcries

your voice cannot be silenced

Not by your so called jailers

Barbed wire or prison walls

Your voice is the voice of the people

you gather a tribe in your exile

The long years

force tyranny to swallow its own irony

The hypocrisy

of a so called democracy

Your voice cannot be silenced, Oscar

You’ve taught us, what it is to be free

Your voice is the voice of the people

you gather a tribe in your exile

Dear President

Release him

The time has come for you to leave  

Isle exile, Robben Island, Sado Island, Terre Haute

Ya es tiempo

Come home

To your true isla

Boozer

Decades soaked, yeasty zeal

starched stiff for the syrup.

Ideas seem achievable this way,

more so than drug ideas,

delighted to brush ideals

and slough.

3am - 5am

truth in a ramble

touchscreen smudger

booze snooze

oh god not the carpet