The Strange and Awkward Story of Saint July @saintjuly - Tumblr Blog

Small Prayers

Over the kitchen sink

eating pineapple in winter

eyes closed,

Over the ice

blocking out traffic noise

to imagine a frozen lake.

Over the bridge through morning fog

sign of the cross

passing one douglas fir last remaining

surrounded by ghosts.

#writing #poetry

To Mark the Occasion

On this, the 9th day of National Novel Writing Month, hundreds of writers throw down their pens and take to the streets in the wake of last night’s election results. While hundreds more work furiously to report on the recent state of our nation. Comedy writers rev their engines, rife with new material, yet somber in it’s implications. Meanwhile, pundits, bloggers, journalists, and activists alike are busy writing same sentence, explaining the same points, and asking the same question;

What. Happened?

Donald J. Trump is now president elect of the United States of America. Coast to coast, protesters flood our cities, disheartened by their fellow Americans, by the racist, sexist and homophobic ideals of their new leader, and of by the electoral system which brought him to power. First-hand accounts of “The Trump Effect” dominate my Facebook feed. Most notably, a friend who teaches 4th grade reported one of his students calling a classmate a “dirty immigrant,” and then of course there’s the dozens of tweets from men threatening to grab women by the pussy, in celebration. Proud to have a leader who legitimizes their fantasy of sexual assault.

For the people Trump has targetted in his hate-speech, safety is the the most pressing issue.

“Will I be deported?”

“Will I lose my healthcare?”

“Will I lose my reproductive rights?”

“Will I be harassed or injured by Trump supporters?”

One friend recounted that he was chased down by a small mob, shouting, “BUILD THAT WALL” and “GO BACK TO MEXICO” (caring little that he was Brazilian).

What we’re experiencing is a civil war. A feud among roommates, neither of whom can leave. The right wing owns this country. When nearly* half of the US voted for a candidate endorsed by the KKK, where is our hope for reason or empathy? Citizens who stand against bigotry are held captive, unwilling or unable to abandon their country, but damned and endangered if they should fight for change. When the right wing riots for their political beliefs, or say, stands up to law enforcement with loaded weapons, they do not fear for their lives. They do not fear that the government will come in the night and take them away in front of their children, that they will be hauled off to secret prisons, or immigrant holding facilities. They don’t fear for their children, walking home with their hands in their pockets, they don’t fear for their loved ones when they use a public restroom.

Today, another friend posted

“When they come for me, remember this, I would have fought for you.”

Visibility is our best defense.

We must stand up for each other.

Solidarity now, more than ever.

Stay safe out there.

Down Jacket

This man helped me pick out a sleeping bag

for living in the car through the cold, cold months

He said,

I want to take you to see the leaves change in Colorado

we picked out pots and pans.

He's scared to lose his autonomy.

He's scared to live in the car.

Alone together, at night, in a new state,

I've sold my car, my life in storage,

he says,

how about I leave you here, in Tennessee?

No? How about I leave you in Georgia?

How about I leave you in New Mexico?

In Austin?

In San Francisco?

How about I leave you in Portland, Oregon?

But I remember when he offered me his green down jacket

for living in the car in the cold, cold months

with gold buttons

and a broken zipper

and a picture of his wife in the pocket.

#poetry #poem #poets on tumblr #travel #travel poetry #rubber tramp #not #love #love poetry #i'm scared

horrorsoflife

I want to go home.

You make me feel so full of myself. As if my private little stories have purpose as details in a love letter to you.

gtfo: pt.1&2

There is a special kind of fear that comes because I know a man with a car a dog a house a boat a tent 3 bikes and a woman. who still feels sad in the daylight too. There is a special kind of fear that comes when strong coffee no longer works. ___

But who's twisting? You're tied to a post. Sorry, a stake sorry, an anchor, excuse me, maybe it's a hook and you'll get out and you wont pace the halls or the sidewalks at night, and wonder, where else is here? maybe you're the only sane person there ever was listening to your biology, don't shit where you eat don't pretend we're not seasonal, cyclical, meandering creatures. Go ahead. Look it all in the mouth, some people are blessed with the brain for it but never the body and you've got both and you want to go live like an insect. there's so much noise but you can hear it Never Ever Stand Still.