Tagged: illegal

humans migrating –

in the debate

in the debate
about walls, PhDs, and
getting in line,
we become
husks of ourselves,
pitted against
one another,
flammable
.
20190919:0552
y

** in the absence of The Daily Post from WordPress, here’s your daily prompt: husks

it turns out that our

it turns out that our
arms cannot keep one
another’s dragons
at bay. the evenings
are the hardest, as we
climb into bed, carrying
this new weight. the
mornings are the hardest,
as we wake up most
vulnerable, bracing
for a bruising day.
the hours in between
are the hardest, as we
try out every combination
of love and resistance,
endeavoring not to harm
each other in every way
.
20170130:1951
y

20090223:2335

(for a & r)

there is not enough room
for the undocumented
north of this jagged border
not on land, and under no
circumstances may there be
a deliverance in the obits
.
20090223:2335
y

20080502

i know you see them
they add up
not just one or two
sitting by an old wooden
post as you say but
hundreds of thousands
cornered

their families are split –
half of the children with
the other half without
papers; there are less
and less happy
reunions; and these days
the stakes are raised
higher, like the fence
upon which only
ignorance rests
judging comfortably
.
20080502:1611
y

20080208

the problem with having too much
space in the morning
to air your thoughts
is that you have to have more
thoughts. this is
as natural and irrefutable
as folding bedsheets
at eight a.m. alone
only to unfurl them
at eight p.m., still
alone, with barely
a clap of fabric
to acknowledge the latitude
.
20080208:1017

In this world of hierarchies,
I guess we all need something beneath us.
– Jonathan Mooney, The Short Bus

almost american
.
you can’t coax an orange to grow
the way you can a migrant worker to
climb two stories into a tree of
thorns, atop a ladder nestled in
insecurity. you can also convince
him to stay up there until he picks
a nearest full ninety-nine-
pound sack, and then you can press him
into repeating himself sixty, seventy,
or eighty times – depending
on the fairness of
sky – and by nightfall
you can stuff forty-nine
dollars into his pocket and one
juicy orange into each of ours
.
20080208:1212
y

john bowe excerpt