Category Archives: Prose

14/30 – giddy

Quizzical, adulation physical, giddy in a prospect in discoursing on the spiritual,

visual, vivacious, vicariously vested,

seldom stresses tested, bested by the burgeoning braggart at the bar,

making ardor far, formulating instead of taking chances,

part man, part portrait, frozen in acrylic filament,

a self-inflicted torture that nitpicks the predicament,

thrills every minute but doesn’t want to change the present stage,

comfort in an unturned page,

wages jester’s gesticulating might generate generosity,

pauper’s philosophy, fairly flustered by the long form,

runs to join the circus to abandon all the norms.

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3/30 – Shores

She’s broad as shore to shore,
hips as wide as America,
she shines, sea to shining sea,
loving a lost cause and hopeful,
falling fanatically for an abstraction,
half-baked idea that never fully form,
failing to see reality for the potential at the core.

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2/30 – Privilege

Privilege is…

…the choice of forefathers to have come here, to have not arrived in chains.

…the ability to not be inherently more likely to be shot.

…whole personhood from the founding of the country of your birth.

…a lottery of melanin,
of economic status,
of opportunity.

…being able to discuss the advantages that I have inherently, because I pass,
gone are the circumspection of circumcision,
gone are quarrelsome curls that announce my otherness,
gone my kippa and tzitzit that says that I’m Hebrew,
Kike, Christ-killer, Juden, Jew,
and Roma, Kalderashi, there is nowhere to call home,
pogroms should be all I know –
privilege is not having ever been driven from somewhere,
my ancestors on either side never knew such,
black men and women in America have never known such,
the First Peoples here have never known such,
the Mexican People have never known such,
this land is built on the bodies of “others” brought here,
granted no rights and worked to their deaths,
privilege is being able to shrug this inhumane history off ourselves.

…perpetual because we’ve let it.

…running rampant because we believe there are more of them,
or that they are more powerful,
but we are what we have always been,
we are WHO we have always been,
the oppressed,
the irreverent,
the dreamers,
the believers,
we are righteous in our indignation,
we are at the end of our rope,
we are ready for revolution,
we cannot have more of the same,
privilege is the right of the strong and the lame.

…available to us all. It is ours for the taking.

…being at the precipice of this coming change.

1/30 – April’s Fool

It didn’t take much,
just to open mouth again,
to let fly assumptions to certainty,
because wise men speak when they have something to say,
fools speak because they have to say something.

Bluster bubbled over, boisterous bravado that barters livelihoods on a lark,
throws caution to the wind and arms enemies and allies alike,
some with words, some with weapons,
waging warfare for a fortune,
because our greatest export has always been

WAR.

Leaves pieces of our soldiers on foreign lands,
limbs and lives and innocence lost buried abroad,

good for making fertilizer of our fellow brethren,
and theirs, all others (forgetting the inextricable fact, there are no “others”),

we will all be soil, someday, but some lead us astray,
bullets and blades for the sake of the wealthy,
who can take all these lives in stride because they believe “it doesn’t affect me,”

but it does, each of us has the same rust in our veins,
exploded stars and their dust, and we all breathe the same,
they have sold us their poisons, and we’ve inherited polluted earth,
because politicians and corporations can tell you precisely what all life’s worth.

Instead of wallowing in dearth,

we should overthrow oligarchs and each extend the wreath
and the laurel, stick to the moral,

that what is hateful to you should be saved from your quarrels,
treat everyone like you’d like to be treated,
the golden rule of every theological treatise,

before we completely deplete the seat of our small sovereignty,

this fair blue marble floating in the void.

1/30 – Ketchup

In a hurry on the highway,
(and late, if I had it my way, wouldn’t be venturing at all,
answering a call for clarity,)
speed approaching “harrowing,”
down the pavement barrelling,
passing a pristine off-brown brand-new Nissan Maxima with vanity plates that read,
“666-S4T4N”.

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31 Short Stories in 31 Days: Day 2

The Challenge

It was in a forest in Greece that Travis found the god. Travis was on a school trip and had broken away from the group to explore the nearby woods while the rest of them went shopping. Travis could not tell you which god it was, merely that it was a god – the perfection of their form gave it away. The god was bathing below a waterfall. Always a bit sure of himself, Travis did not cower, engaged the deity.

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31 Short Stories in 31 Days 2016: 1

FARMaceuticals: Part 1

Sam grew lettuce, tomatoes, celery, garlic, onions, carrots, peppers, zucchini, strawberries, cantaloupe, and watermelon. It didn’t matter what he planted though as Sam would come to find out that he only grew psychotropic fruits and vegetables. This was not a purposeful act, Sam truly had a love of the outdoors and toiling in the earth, and had resolved to “never pay for a salad again,” only to discover that he could not eat anything that came out of his garden without tripping his face off.

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