Tent
Sometimes in the morning,
before opening my eyes,
I dream of our tent,
that tiny green dome.
From behind its walls
thin as skin, I hear birds,
leaves, a brush...
There is in the Water
What happened here the history I mean thismean thing there right there the bridgewhere they were lynched and who elsewas there and this is always here Ito make them mean something and howcan inanimate objects say...
occupier artclasswindow is crackedopen to let fresh air in. outsidesunny schoolyard under
lovely cloudless sky,the kind of blue beggingto be licked and torn asunderby hungry...
