heal long / crank slow
heal long crank slow the vast universe of your breath for an open question.
let your heart be less of a needle. young ghost men wake & laugh
& remember to circle home
with sacred poetry as if to pierce the gods with grass If
a broken man melts into his sister surround him
rob him of his stiff self
fish the concrete
for a fresh joy that may kill or blind or free hm.
life is a wild peace only almost embrace her
like a boy that lingers near his naked weeping father.
tidepool
look at my scabs now at your breasts
see how your teeth are like stalks of bamboo
old cracking blocks of dentyne white wrists wrung in the sun
see how they bend in your mouth like armor
thirty-two glittering shields, all poised to shatter.
see your hands: white geese taking flight from road,
inching in darkness like the blind shuffling bodies of
those kept from the daylight, those who were
not meant to see but do,
and like you and me must start
somewhere.
laughter, like a tide pool, lay and wait under your right knee
just a little up, the open and close of a clam
taking in first one, then two, now three
fingers.
remember how we were pariahs in our own skin
how we hung outside our bodies billowing and bloated
New blouses on a clothes-wire how we wished the white geese would lift themselves into the ether of belize ?
see now how we compare shadows laughing
inside the funnel we dug not a trench, nor a coffin
when the long, bony finger of light comes for us
we will stand still as film, exposed inside our bed, big as the globe
our laughter will be prickly heavy showers when you are inside.
cleats
Sleep rocking me to you, Who
hummed alibi, lullaby,
and goodbye in the same melody -
Daddy, daddy we have 14 issues of Mother Jones
Beneath my bed, stashed between the
Bridge to Terabithia and the cleats,
Muddied, dull-black, and tested, a pair
of peacefully-resting show ponies
sleeping their way to glue; they are
still sporting this exhausted shame in their dark
supple, teasing leather - who would I have been
Had you been who you were supposed to be?
These questions are like fireflies in August,
Nothing new here,
But the constant of illumined regression
and a humid net cast for dancing.
the dependency premise
The Dependency Premise goes something like this: We are completely dependent on [service industry X].[X] depends on social and political stability. Therefore, any action that results in instability is unwise and intolerable.
Our industry X was tourism; now it’s international business. Both industries have been economically dominate, employing thousands and producing a giant’s share of national income. Both industries sell smiling locals or the (appearance of) peace; both bolt at signs of unrest. The Dependency Premise sanctions disruptive protest, so we use it to sanction protesters. Where peace is a precondition for prosperity, to disturb the peace is verboten. Petty crime or protest? We don’t distinguish between them. It’s our unscrutinized status quo.
It is crucial to identify and interrogate the Dependency Premise. Beyond sanctioning protest, we can commit to tackling the “essential dilemma” identified in the 1978 Clarke Report, at a time when protest threatened to “shatter our tourist image.” Still unresolved is “how to obtain concrete forms of racial justice and economic equity without threatening the social stability essential for a strong service economy.”
It starts by recognizing when protests are proxy wars, one issue standing in for wider, deeper grievances or aspirations, economic or emotional. These might include wishing for a good standard of living, sympathy for our experience, or expressing insecurity about our ability to compete in our own country.
Poor conflict management, the Pitt commissioners reasoned, would breed civil unrest “resulting in negative growth.” Social justice and economic growth are allies, not enemies.