Hiroshige - New Year’s Eve Foxfires at the Changing Tree, Ōji (1857)
GREASED UP AND ASLEEP I WAKE UP JUST LIKE A SHEEP IN THE CROOK OF YOUR ARM IN THE FOLD OF YOUR SWEET SARSAPARILLA OH VIRGINIA THERES A BLACK CAT AT MY FEET BUT YOU CURB HER BY THE COLLAR AND YOU WRAP ME IN WHITE SHEETS LUMBER LIMBS ALL TIMBERIN’ FRECKLED SPECKLED CHICKEN LAYING IN YOUR SKIN OH I WANNA BE AN ANIMAL UP AGAINST YOUR WALL IM A WANTED MAN IN EVERY STATE BUT IM NOT A MAN AT ALL AND THERE WERE TEN DEAD RABBIT HEADS ALL STRUNG UP IN A LINE JUST LIKE PEARLS ON A LOVERS NECK WHO ONCE SAID SHE WAS MINE ITS A WET DREAM HEAVY WHIPPING CREAM AND WHIPPOORWILLS ARE WHISPERING AND YOURE AS BIG AS THE SKY IN WYOMING AND HONEY YOURE THE QUEEN OF EVERY FRYING PAN SMOKEY BLUE AND BURNING TRUE SALMON AND CAYENNE OH I WANNA BE AN ANIMAL UP AGAINST YOUR WALL IM A WANTED MAN IN EVERY STATE BUT NOBODY WANTS ME AT ALL AND YOU ASKED ME WHERE I HAD COME FROM YOU KNEW OCEANS AND I WANTED TO RUN YOUR HANDS ALONG THE NECK OF MY GUN AND DO A THING THAT CANNOT BE UNDONE I CANNOT BE UNDONE ‘CAUSE IM A PIONEER A-PINING TREE THAT FELL ONTO YOUR FLOOR AND IM PAWIN’ AND I CALLIN’ AT YOUR WINDOWS AND YOUR DOORS AND THE HOUNDS ALL RUN LIKE RIBBON SO I FOLLOW THEM RIGHT IN TO BOUND AT THE SOUND OF YOUR HOLLERIN’ SHEPHERDS PURSE WOULD MEND A BROKEN HEART LIKE A GOWN I WORE AND THEN I TORE APART OH I WANNA BE AN ANIMAL UP AGAINST YOUR WALL IM A WANTED MAN IN EVERY STATE BUT YOU WANTED ME MOST OF ALL
DEREK JARMAN - SLOANE SQUARE
- "real poem (personal statement)," Rachel Zucker (via commovente)
jay electronica. act i: the pledge (abridge)
BY NAOMI SHIHAB NYE
“A true Arab knows how to catch a fly in his hands,”
my father would say. And he’d prove it,
cupping the buzzer instantly
while the host with the swatter stared.
In the spring our palms peeled like snakes.
True Arabs believed watermelon could heal fifty ways.
I changed these to fit the occasion.
Years before, a girl knocked,
wanted to see the Arab.
I said we didn’t have one.
After that, my father told me who he was,
a good name, borrowed from the sky.
Once I said, “When we die, we give it back?”
He said that’s what a true Arab would say.
Today the headlines clot in my blood.
A little Palestinian dangles a truck on the front page.
Homeless fig, this tragedy with a terrible root
is too big for us. What flag can we wave?
I wave the flag of stone and seed,
table mat stitched in blue.
I call my father, we talk around the news.
It is too much for him,
neither of his two languages can reach it.
I drive into the country to find sheep, cows,
to plead with the air:
Who calls anyone civilized?
Where can the crying heart graze?
What does a true Arab do now?
Naomi Shihab Nye, “Blood” from Words Under the Words: Selected Poems (Portland, Oregon: Far Corner Books, 1995). Copyright © 1995 by Naomi Shihab Nye. Reprinted with the permission of the author.
Talking About My Girlfriend with Strangers, 2013
Retro Conceptual Collages by Olivia Jeffries
Exercises for Female Emancipation, 2011. Poster, text and graphics, 1st Gran Bienal Tropical, San Juan, Puerto Rico.