Xanax Boy
I’ve done it again. Twice nightly in fact.
The motionless beating of a heart that
Was bathed like a jostling ocean, an ocean
that peeled all layers of the earth away.
Is this how I’ll hear God’s voice?
Prescribed in tongues
Forfeited away in a false silver-lining.
sealed in capsules of aqueous blue,
I’d be drowning before the day even turns red. I see feathers floating in time,
I’ve been sainted by black doves,
and judging by their faces
I can tell I have no halo.
Please let the days unday my life anew. Take one
. . .no take two.
By the mouth, till it dawns an elysium. For this adolescent body,
trials are recycled from a bottle
. . . I am the Xanax boy.
Song of the People
Listen to the people sing,
hear the colors of all come together.
Banners of red white and blue
are woven in patterns
that defy the swastika of a
coming storm.
In 2019, bells of freedom are heard over the
largest valleys, slops which betray
a foreshadowing hurricane.
From California to the east coast of New York,
let the people sing!
Let hands be held,
for love conquers who it wishes to conquer.
Just before 2020, the colors of rainbows will be rebuilt the colors of skins will never again see old chains
and from ashes of America,
the people will sing it back to a better life.
Where Did All the Lilies Blow?
Mom, Dad. Where did all the lilies blow?
Under the meadow silhouetted
by another universe perhaps?
It seemed like a yesterday’s dream when you both smiled in
the same Eden.
And for a moment, Paradise would
rip the earth every five seconds
below my feet.
Mother, Father. Why do we now
live in an abandoned garden?
Where did all the lilies blow?
Have you not yet sown every fleeting wind
neath the world to which we all love?
Are you two destined to plant different seeds?
Can we at least find where the lilies blew?
Inlandia: A Literary Journey 