"the writer you are in relation to the deaths you have experienced..." -Lil Wayne
"a moment of terror/ happening every day she/ every day forgets." -Anne Carson
A Project
fielded children in the wayside, a gathering so they squared brick by brick
a city is a drumming, where you congregate, where you push back
& here, a culture slips streeted beats, it is irreverent, then too the martyrdom
of being skinned & of being gendered & of being bodied in a place
that crumbles, in the ruins where we built up from disaster
now the arc is towards white plains swept clean the erasing of doubt
how to monster what we feared what was invisibility is now too clear
occluded: can you build a big enough cage to hold the rage
one by one escaping is a poor tool for making
you break down the master demos for a moneying
forget the places that etched clay red dust into your soles
you carry around the bullet hole that got away
here dying in dozens and dozens & the ones that get
away, sent away, back & back to Angola
a city is where your life span is 18
a city is where old age for certain men
is a never arriving space
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