the deception of the Sun

the Sun just keeps on shining
setting and rising,
setting and rising
while
the People
of Palestine,
of Congo,
are genocided

the deception of the “life-bringer” Sun on yet another day of genocides

did you know that Yaldaboath only feigned dismay
when Cain blew his own brother away;
then He later told Abraham to kill his own son,
just to prove that he was obsessed enough

you know, that dear Jesus
in heaven comfortably stayed
all throughout the Trans-Atlantic slave trade,

and that Allah had no problems with the Caliphates
and The One True God was all about The Crusades

and that Creator ignored the prayers and the pleas
of First Peoples slaughtered by steel,
starvation, and European disease

and that Yahweh was pre-occupied during the Holocaust
busy planning and inciting the Palestinians’ cruel loss

from Auschwitz to Al-Shifa,
He so craves burnt offerings
His global portfolio — built solely on dead things

He created the Sun to grow His tainted Seeds
Horror by daylight,
His Grand Design? — what a fucking death scheme

Auden once begged to “dismantle the Sun”
for the loss of his own be-loved one

but Hark!

for the loss of our collective soul,
dismantlement’s just not good enough,
leave Him no parts, no plans
to re-build and restart!

Extinguish His goddamn Sun!

and forever, and evermore,

Let there only be Dark!

Continue reading “the deception of the Sun” →

kill the coyote v.2

i won’t warn you with
my voice, anymore

tell me,
how do you calmly
tell someone to
“look, brake, stop, now, please”
in a nano-second?
calm but with desperate urgency?
without amplification?
without proselytizing?
without the infusion or projection of panic?
without the prescience of the future unfolding in the very moment?

tell me,
i’ll wait,

while you kill the coyote

crossing the road

that crosses razed forest

clear-cut for runs and Aprés-ski,
for lumber to build the 3-day-stay mansions – which they unironically call, “cabins,”
a settlement of a pop-up-Bavaria™️ for them in the valley of the mountains of

the Sangre de Cristo?

the lifeblood of the Red Willows.

the very same road

to access the trailhead
to the pristine glacial lake
with views of Taos Peak

a profanity of epithets

“williams” lake

“wheeler” peak

where you go, unironically,

to briefly escape

this World,
the violence of this World,
your World

the one constructed in your image,

and in your favor

Continue reading “kill the coyote v.2” →

free palestine: “SHALOM not [A] napalm BOMB”


“SHALOM not [A] napalm BOMB”

– Joffre Stewart

Joffre Stewart,
Chicago
poet, outsider artist,
street philosopher & pamphleteer,
anti-political theorist & activist,
anti-zionist,
war-and-tax-resister
&
pacifist-anarchist
June 1994


“No state exists by right, they come to exist by force, and then justify their existence after the fact.”

- Geo Maher

Continue reading “free palestine: “SHALOM not [A] napalm BOMB”” →

the visitation

absolutely familiar
though this composite
is arresting and near unrecognizable

appearing as face and form of a human woman
who never endured, nor knew of, disease

wearing pleromic countenance
without tongue for human words, without neurons for human thoughts

yet fluently exuding
all the truth
that is

now hers

Continue reading “the visitation” →

“Forever You”: an ode to friendship at the horizon of loss

gifted handwritten poem art from one of my newest and dearest friends, Lajuana Lampkins
as my longest and dearest friend,
Jill Johnston Hayes
neared death

an illuminated scroll
drawn on gold metallic cardstock
with pen, marker, paint and crayon
Lajuana Lampkins
September 2023

FOREVER “you”… 
My childhood friend, and through the years, we've grown together, shared joy and tears, were bonded like the day and night, our hearts forever will unite, you've given me, a chance to be, a friend forever, most definitely, I am forever, there is no end, you'll always be, my most best friend, each day and night, I keep you near, always know, that I am here. Thank you for, the love you've shared, nothing else can compare, So much we've grown, and been all through, forever is forever you.

Poem by Lajuana Lampkins
©️copyright Lajuana Lampkins
September 2023

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the mourning cloak

near invisible,

imagine silk organza, chameleoned

peach-pink colored, when i Am naked,

the color of water as i bathe.

sky blue, golden, sherbet, grayed or midnight black,

when i Am outside

ever-shifting with the time of day and weather,

once, even green,

as i knelt down in the cold grass.

while diaphanous to all the unobservant,

i Am dressed in this cloak of mourning

and the hem is lined with lead.

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o holy night

the golden light
stole her attention, as per
halted her forward motion, as per
the Sun’s set
would be the first
without Her, earthside
she took some photos, as per,

/but also, to remember that very first one/

she then acknowledged
that the Sun, Moon and Stars
herald no one’s birth, announce no one’s death
and perhaps that’s why
the Star of Bethlehem
and a midday eclipse

Continue reading “o holy night” →

the first 24 hours of loss

the first night, the long night
the first sleep
sobbing or wailing into oblivion
eyes forced shut by swollen lids
eventually the mammalian body
succumbs to the exhaustion
from the metabolic expenditure of emotional agony and adrenaline

the next morning
the first sweet seconds of confusion of time and place
as the tender light or familiar sounds of daybreak
breach the senses
a suspension of forgetting
the devastation of yesterday

those must be the most ephemeral moments
in human consciousness

then a stirring
a shifting in bed
an adjustment of position
breaks the magic of sleep

the anvil of non-specific grief returns to the chest
the coils of hopelessness entwine the limbs

the throat gasps

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the last meal of a woman

the last meal that She cooked for herself

was in the late afternoon of the 18th of September the Year of Our Hearts, 2023

that same evening
She would spend the last night together alone with her only child, her son, in Their house on Adams Street

he had already stopped at Chik-fil-A
– or Quesabroso? for his dinner

he, sixteen forever, for Her, not even licensed for a year yet

She thought, then said aloud to him

“pasta. i want some pasta.”

and so She very slowly set about

choosing saucepans, boiling water,
sautéing a little ground beef with a bit of diced onion, and minced garlic from a giant container from Costco,
adding in a half jar of Rao’s Original, some dried herbs — nothing too spicy or fancy now,
cooking her favorite gluten-free rigatoni,

or was it penne, mostaccioli?

She ate, rinsed the pots, loaded and ran the dishwasher, put the combined leftovers in her fridge

and at dinner time the very next day,

She told her oldest and dearest friend about it

her friend listened, and watched Her plate, reheat, and sit down to eat those leftovers — She wanting to do all that for Herself, still

She taking the smallest and most intentional bites possible,

every delicate swallow and cough amplified in the too-big-for-two, unusually quiet house, the parade of Her friends and visitors gone until tomorrow

“i’m not supposed to drink with these meds, but lemme have just one lil’ sip of your wine”

Continue reading “the last meal of a woman” →