Resist

hands grip behind rod-straight backs— wide stance as they watch dozens— glassy wings like dreck on the sidewalk mangled bee bodies crawl through wreckage dusty pollen leaves bright orange streaks on cold concrete spit-polished boots lift crush bodies like cigarette butts 41 minutes they watch— send more bombs by Gale Naylor

Rivers run from a nation’s eyes as a monster claws out her heart. A symbol shatters as she cries. Rivers run from a nation’s eyes. Hiding behind a tyrant’s lies craven sycophants do their part. Rivers run from a nation’s eyes as a monster claws out her heart. by Gale Naylor

—After Emily Dickinson “Hope” is the unicorn with rainbow Mane dancing in the street – Singing “If I Could Turn Back Time” – Surrounded by ICE heat – And sweetest is the shy T-Rex – And sore must be their arms – To offer flowers to the men Who seem to mean them harm -…

i’m so done with the guns know i’m not the only one who wants to run from the ones who think guns will be the way they won and i wonder how many sun kissed children will be undone before we’re done with the guns and the ones who keep mum when the guns kill…

We’ll stand with you, as true friends must—arm in arm, and knee to knee.The time is now; be brave with us. Reject false fear and forced mistrust.Know none are free ’till all are free.We’ll stand with you, as true friends must. They stir the pot, tell lies, and fuss,intimidate, ignore our pleas.The time is now;…

[No] possibility of sleeping past dawn, I stretch and sit up in the [king-s]ized bed we bought before we moved into the house on the hill. [No] other furniture in that big empty house, all our possessions—jammed like [king s]almon swimming upstream to mate—in the back of a moving truck with [no] clue when it…

free to think free to disagree to argue to hold different beliefs free even to believe that which is dangerous which leads to cracks in the bedrock to weakness in the foundations and how do we repair the cracks rebuild without restricting thought without creating limits we hoped weren’t necessary we believed in the inalienable…

When they can, they drive by slowly: holding their cameras and honking their horns—some gentle taps, some sharp, percussive—blaring, joyful—all sounding different: the tiny high-pitched toy beeps like little kid pedal cars or the low, slow foghorns from semis—always a little hiccup when the truckers honk, show their solidarity—like recognizing a long-lost cousin. Other times…

Do you know or remember the hundred and forty seven who labored, locked in a factory—women, boys, girls, gathered in fear on the top floor—with no escape and no choice but to jump? Do you know or remember the fire pressing closer and closer, the smoke closer and closer, the firemen below? How the workers jumped? First one or two,…

this wind is destructive slips under siding pulls tiles from roofs tosses patio tables and RVs like empty plastic bags this wind is devastating drops branches onto cars knocks trees into buildings blows through windows—flinging javelins of glass this wind is disaster-making rips communities apart sets neighbor against neighbor for a share of an inadequate pie this wind is weather—but…

I can listen to your stories, hear you speak of the myriad events that formed you—interactions that accreted like plasma and particles circling a black hole, like paragraphs of history, like sun-illumined dust motes atop an ebony table; I can hold your fears—born from the caustic vibrations of past generations, from their fears, their crushed…

—“we shall overcome” Joan Baez, 1963 Some days my soul music is nearly silent —barely whispers in the back rooms of my perception, buried by the cacophony of criticisms and the clanking of shields rising. But today my soul music is loud; its verses and refrains reverberate, beat down and up my limbs, singing out…

If you believe the speeches, the policies, the pronouncements; if you believe the rhetoric, the rantings, the bluster; if you believe the government when it says these people are terrorists, are evil, are bad guys—then you forget to check for proof, for verification, for due process; you forget to wonder why—if the government is so…

—”You take the blue pill – the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill – you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes.” (Morpheus in The Matrix) Which hand do you pick Neo? Which pill? Will…

The ship is sinking. The ship is sinking and you are peering over your glasses clearing your throat making plans around a table that six months from now may be kindling may be some billionaire’s conversation piece may be history. You are an antique slot car tracing a metal track laid long before liars and…

—For Chuck Schumer Rain falls steadily—dances on the patio table drips down the sliding glass door drops from the birch trees’ feathery fingers. I force my attention to remain outside away from the thousand cuts of a dying democracy—from the languid writhing of dinosaurs sinking into black tar—from the disappointment in those who have power…

— After Karen Yourish, Annie Daniel, Saurabh Datar, Isaac White, and Lazaro Gamio These words are disappearing in the new Trump administration: accessible all-inclusive antiracist assigned at birth at risk barriers belong bias biologically female biologically male BIPOC Black clean energy climate science confirmation bias cultural differences cultural heritage culturally appropriate DEI disabilities discrimination diversity…

—After Rebecca Solnit and Timothy Snyder You are dancing, muscles stretching, contracting, tempting gravity to unbalance you, then sinuously collapsing, denying the ground its prize, spinning, swirling, undulating to a rhythm, a pulse, a beat, from deep inside when a cardboard pretender says, STOP. Nobody is allowed to dance. Dancing is banned—verboten—prohibited—on penalty of death.…