senryu (dozing off)
reading senryu bit by bit dozing off why am i sleepy
Posts
senryu (aged family members)
aged family members speak in Kouri-Vini kids speak English *Kouri-Vini - endonym speakers of Louisiana French use to refer to Louisiana Creole, another heritage language indigenous to Louisiana.
tanka (tethered to)
these days i am tethered to my monmon's spirit— endless night-walking around a sparsely filled parking lot
tanka (Goya painting)
with tired fingers sifting through the ash of burned memories— crooked Goya painting
tanka (affair)
affair with a married man... with no shame shopping for an outfit there'll be dinner later
tanka (soaking this body)
bite marks in an apple... for a few hours soaking this tired body in steaming water
tanka (black women)
"Black women are pure magic..." telling myself this starring at monmon's obituary *Monmon is mother in Kouri-Vini
senryu (Maestro Seiji Ozawa)
just finding out the *maestro passed away... life trudges on *the renowned Maestro Seiji Ozawa (1935-2024) transitioned.
senryu (lacrimae rerum)
time passing fast every time i wake up... *lacrimae rerum * a poetic line meaning the tears of things from Book I, line 462 of the “Aeneid” by Roman poet Virgil (70-19 B.C.).
senryu sequence
spring day wearing pajamas wearing a headwrap - the spirit Herod in all Republicans: cane sugar dry - a whore's laughter feeling a rip in my stockings - filing paperwork: already ready for work to be over - the word 'fuck' polite society seems to abhor that word
senryu sequence
sand in the wind shopkeeper grabbing the broom - priest's red sash: monmon's rosary has aged - Excedrin for a headache i retain my prejudices - "isn't it interesting"...the thought remains unfinished - a quick nap before work inside of me a blooming flower
sedoka (all this heat)
all this heat in Texas and Louisiana touching each sugar cane its sweetness starts ripening
sijo (shee-joh) (do we speak)
do we speak under a dense heat and a rush of noon traffic? i watch you become colored butterflies and white moments now. you ignore my questions deftly, i become blue air moving.
sedoka (down in the south)
down in the south— heat wave dressing lightly and waiting for him to pick me up
3 senryu
her bro- ken heart... these days she's a Sa- tur- day pain- ter sho- pping my gro- cer- y cart with a creak- y wheel these days hu- mans are on- ly a- part of 'the ma- chine'
Muzak a senbun/ryubun
this morning's fading moon hangs on a noose. lighting a cigarette, all of my thoughts are able to hide behind coffeesteam. Sunday comes, but ion feel much holy... hotel muzak plays to an empty lobby
Sugar Stains a ryubun/senbun
sunday comes with a brief coolness. the heat will replace that soon enough. i've received a text message frm my estranged ex... i have a craving for *binyé powdered sugar stains my lips iron forest creaks *Beignet in Kouri-Vini
2 senryu
talk of an iron vagina re-reading *Kirkup's haiku beyond coffee steam, one shift ends another begins
tanka (iron lungs)
this morning my iron lungs falter... and still these Sunday words slide five lines down
senryu cluster (english monostich)
english monostich: distant cousin's of japanese haiku senryu monostich—into an iron forest foraging for what exactly finding the word 'ichigyoshi' charming, parking-lot quite full another cup of coffee—am i worthy to call these one-liners senryu unfastening his jeans, during fellatio each breath a single monostich empty hotel lobby: tonight my soul spins haikai-like monostich
sedoka (near parked cars)
all this liquid blackness on this hot night folks stand outside drunk near parked cars
sedoka (a 'knowing' glance)
words scribbled down on yellow pages— another guest comes in past midnight we share a long 'knowing' glance
senryu (to just exist)
seedling eggplants brilliantly purple discovering my own resilience to just exist
tanka (mama return home)
watching mama return home slow-movin' under the weight of every unanswered prayer
tanka (uninhabited cave)
uninhabited cave in granmé's backyard the old Chevy hasn't been driven since 1979 *granmé: 'grandmother' in Kouri-Vini
Short Piece on 'Colorblindness'
real quickly beloveds, i wanna highlight something. the graphic posted below this tweet; highlights something that has been with us as long as Racism has been with us—this notion of 'Colorblindess.' The concept of CB seems innocuous enough, but those kinds of concepts... ...are what makes Racism and Racial Bias so insidious. The concept 'appears' to be innocent and well-meaning. It is anything but. Not seeing someone's color, trying to see everyone as homogenous means you don't acknowledge or respect my differences, my lived experiences... ...it usually means you only acknowledge the world and people that look and have experiences like yourself. That is NOT reality, nor is it the world we ALL inhabit. This world is and will continue to be beautifully diverse like a big ass Potluck; comprised of many dishes... ...and our jobs are to respect and acknowledge that everyone has a right to exist, take up space, 'bring a dish,' have a seat at 'the table&
tanka (pungent coffee grounds)
pungent coffee grounds percolating outside a Black and White girl laughingly play 'Hopscotch'
tanbun [Single Stories]
its dangerous having a single story. single stories create stereotypes, distorted pictures; not fully grounded in reality. stereotypes have a BIT of truth; but are largely incomplete. its dangerous when single stories, become the ONLY story. unpruned shrubbery in the front yard i learn that im a walking kaleidoscope
tanbun (white gaze)
my queerness. my Blackness. my creoleness. all of it under intense scrutiny every day. my shoulder's sag under the weight of the White gaze... his free laughter now imprisoned behind iron teeth and their grayness seeps into his joints
tanbun (fig preserves)
knife still left inside a jar of fig preserves on the counter— im not fighting to be accepted we parted ways. he had problems with my skin color, and i had problems with his narrow, poisonously biased mind.
tanbun (colorblindness)
'Colorblindness' is offensive. To 'not see color' isn't as good as it appears to sound. Not seeing color, means one doesn't see, acknowledge, or respect another's lived experiences. pretty chocolate girl— eraser marks all over her latest piece of artwork
tanka (black body unalived)
near Golstrum's convenience store— another black body unalived, another mother's grief
tanbun (beautifully autistic)
he was beautifully autistic & often in his own world. he didn't hear when police, smiling executions; demanded he stop and put up hands. he kept movin' and soon was no more. crunch of midnight leaves night stillness shatter'd by a phone's grotesque ringing
tanka (another police shooting)
another police shooting a mother's frantic pacing and worry that falls thick as syrup
senryu (houses line these streets)
hou- ses line these streets... dys- func- tion of most fam- i- lies well- hid- den
senryu (Manna moon)
*Man- na moon set- tling in- to this o- ver- night work- shift *Manna, the mysterious coriander seed like wafer that GOD provided for the newly formed Israelite nation to eat during their trek through the wilderness. It could function as a 'summer kigo'
senryu cluster
in belly of black dahlias, hell and whatever else follows 'nascent' quite a word, highlighting facts with a yellow marker tender ribs several elders i thought were dead burning America, who reaches for the hot dogs... solitary red spider lily in a deep sleep...coma-like
sedoka (at family barbecue)
at a family barbecue over paper-plates full of food gossiping about everything
tanka (covers for the futon)
in the shadow of a strawberry moon washing and re-washing the covers for the futon
tanka (trétœr by profession)
mémè— a trétœr by profession boils roots from the mangliyé plant for a tea to ward off fever *mémè - grandma (in Kouri-Vini, Louisiana Creole, one of Louisiana's indigenous heritage languages) *trétœr - faith healer *mangliyé - manglier root
[When Saigon Fell] a zuihitsu
[When Saigon Fell] a zuihitsu thinking of a few things tonight. on the whim i decide to try and jot a zuihitsu. i don't really have anything in mind except the phrase, "when Saigon fell." Saigon fell in 1975, and i did find myself wondering; what was my mother doing at that time? i know she graduated high- schoo in '77—so id imagine she was a young woman in 10th grade, growing and experiencing a young adult's world at that time. (i miss monmon!) ___ its been a long time since i've watched MSNBC, CNN, or ABC news. im so disconnected from the obvious poison of everything; BUT im strangely tuned in to the spirit of the time—the political tur- moil, the menace of an Authoritarian Fascist Dictatorship. the very fabric of what was, seems to be quickly fraying. quickly disappearing. ___ going through my personal things, i think i might need to order myself some more Sauvage colgone as well Exclamation parfume and Bluegrass perfume. ___ a father meets his Vie
tanka (grandpa's flatulence)
silent afternoon—grandpa's flatulence ...such are the ways of this thing called 'Life'
tanka (being young)
a little boy's wildness somewhat charming— i don't remember much about being young
tanka (shake agitation)
night spent trying to shake agitation after working stop by the store for a stiff drink
tanka (fellating a man)
empty hallways stretching endlessly— in the office fellating a man with no future
senryu (Athaliah in us all)
on the noon bus a bit of Athaliah in us all *Athaliah, daughter of Biblical Queen, Jezebel; she murdered all those in succession to the throne.
[Sigh] a zuihitsu
[Sigh] a zuihitsu 1. my life is a zuihitsu, albeit a very boring one (in my opinion). 2. 'Erythrocytes' in the blood carry oxygen away from lungs... 3. ive been idealistic only a few times. most of the time, im pessimistic. 4. i ask nothing of him, ripening of a grapefruit stack of bills on the counter, another workshift 5. in my chest this hollow sound. something about a cough's music. 6. didn't really know that both of our lungs are not the same size... 7. overcast skies, in silence turning pages to a boring book *sigh*
senryu cluster
morning moonflowers, studying teratomas in class hair rolled up, how to avoid tomorrow's PTA meeting morning moonflowers, studying teratomas in class mending socks, i am no one's lover no one's spouse Kyoshi too strict, colorful streamers of Pride parade *Takahama Kyoshi, complete ruler of Hototogisu Haiku group and Traditional Haiku all-seeing eye of tv, watching us sleep this short night ironing clothes, Ibsen's Nora seems much more glamorous buying sunglasses at a kiosk, i want the beach today 'venereal—' of Venus goddess of love, suddenly tired seeking love as potent as Komodo dragon's saliva syphilis—'the danger is in not knowing' i think malaise...coffee just spurs on my agitations discussing 'chemical castration' i order light lunch love is when dead leaves walk a sidewalk erratically cold coffee, vulgar language appears in haiku too potluck: myriad of dishes for unattached folk
tanka (first laughter)
reminding of my first laughter... sepia photograph of me between two and three yrs old
tanka (once-a-month)
once-a-month a smiling moon in sky— security guard relaxes eating sea-salted snacks
tanka (night streets)
some aged woman in a thin robe watching someone else arrive off the night streets
2 tanka
baby kitten playing... i hold Pandora in contempt...damn box smiling moon stark in the sky— slow trudging to a job i despise
senryu string
Saturday—is there no end to this workshift breakfast: all the guests with foodstains on their shirts co-conspirators...slow collapse of the Republic legal pad sheet, filled with haikai-styled monostich
Ryubun
watching him stir the koubiyon. my cousin passes by, holding his baby. im the only one with no kids. figure, ill get myself a few cats and just be. charging cell phone, my coffee just a bit darker
Ryubun
long trainride. in and out of a dream, i start smelling magnolias. their scent is sickly-sweet and too strong. somewhere, someone's child cries incessantly. the rockin' train rocks on. in the last car, a blur of colors a mundane dream
senryu string
hotel bar: watered down drinks with a weird man crisscrossing freeways—my thoughts converge at foolishness lunch with stranger: for a moment i belong not a nun not a priest...avoiding dogstar tonight fascinated by the KGB, for lunch 'Bay of Pigs' incident what does it mean to be 'human' folding his'n her onsies photo of smilin' Putin, my ex-lover's all serial killers old tennis shoes, in the corner all of my memories
senryu (Tokizane Shinko memorial)
apricot jam: Shinko-san is on my mind this morning *Tokizane Shinko: she was a master senryu poet
ryubun [Mangliyé]
someone's car wheels passin' through rainpuddles. tonight ive sat in front the computer piddling 'round. i love that for me. summer congestion, mangliyé roots boiled into tea *mangliyé (manglier) a root in louisiana used to ward off fevers and such.
ryubun [Movin' Back]
idea entertained 'bout movin' back to Louisiana. at least this time, id be movin' there having made up my own mind; instead of because i was livin' with someone else. the idea of the heathumidityhurricanes give me pause tho. book on Creole peoplehood, having an edible
ryubun [Never Started]
never started studying, instead, i read Marlene and printed up articles; to re-orient myself in haikai. outside, a huge wind someone taking the trash out
monotanka (rape flower)
'rape' flower, what a curious name this morning finishing up foreign language index cards
senryu string
death of several kids, gun reform still bypassed foodstains on my shirt, ive grown tired of working - old Cutlass in the yard, pop's pipe has stale scent - craving pancakes: beyond the night more night
Juniku Senryu
newborn pelicans... this morning he and i leave . ghazals written down... house filled with shallow laughter . bag of warmed pralines tonight begins the ending .
senryu cluster
pile of peach pits... on the futon watching movies . hiss of wild dragons... this evening finds me confused . medium-done steak ive done all i can for him . behind tired eyes television static .
American Sonnet #9 [The Cause of this much Damage...]
American Sonnet 9 [The Cause of this much Damage...] the cause of this much damage... ion think those kinds of things can always be quantified. sometimes ion think those things can always be documented (at least correctly.) how do you effective transcribe one's dialect? "all these idioms and colloquialisms—treasures of Blackness ridiculed and called 'ignorant'" brightness of White tongues wrapping around our words, our folktales and spiritualities with the sharpness of scythes... 'have you ever seen someone come smilin' crucifixtions and guillotines?' ion think there's a number large enough to quantify Black Pain, Black rage, Black passion or Blackness in and of itself...after all; Blackness IS the absence of light.
American Sonnet #8 [On the morning of June First...]
American Sonnet 8 [On the morning of June First...] on the morning of June First wrapped in darkness at my boss's desk, taking randomness, & locking it in the skin of American Sonnets, i remember the semi-flirting banter i had with that one guest; that Latino homie i thought was cute in a rugged way. he ain't really hear my blues of lust...that low, hummin' whine reminiscent of an oboe or a weary cello. "i mean, I can't paintbrush the abruptness of what i lust for, on highway billboards, can i!?" 'Dear S- wrote a zuihitsu about affection vs. lust. what an adventure. I don't really know what im doing when it comes to writing...i just, sort of aimless meander and hope something with substance comes... on June First, i too became one with pre-morning darkness...
sedoka (grazing horses)
grazing horses in that field outside of this godforsaken town... on the kid's lap a goldfish bowl as we leave in a blue station wagon
sedoka (turning off burner)
slowly turning off the burner where tea-water warms— my neighbor Sheila comes to ask for a cheap cigarette to smoke
American Sonnet #7 [Hey Terrance, tonight...]
American Sonnet 7 [Hey Terrance, tonight...] hey Terrance, tonight im thinking of Caligula's madness of his slide into the darkness of no-reason and upside down antics. it is 3:39 am and the second day since 'Agent Orange' was convicted on 34 counts. Interestingly it is Black/Brown bodies willing to hold him accountable for his misdeeds. The swirl of uncertainty coupled with brazen fear at what tomorrow will bring settles thickly on humans. most of us are moving hesitantly under this blazing sky, our footsteps uneven and our breath ragged. these are topsy-turvy days, and most of us are a hair's breath away from running screaming from this burning house of cards. 'how are you?' 'im fine...' all words in that frame ring hollow. the smiles we flash at each other are plastic, and forced. reality is dead and we perpetually move in twilight hoping for the brilliance of day.
tanka (liquidating)
liquidating certain things learned over the last ten years— my beta fish pass away
American Sonnet #6 [I often think of the 'White gaze'...]
American Sonnet 6 [I often think of the 'White gaze'...] i often think of the 'White gaze,' but i think of it differently than Ancestor Morrison and others. in the eyes of the Whites, come mythologies and folktales to explain the world and people's around them. concerning Melanated folks, the white gaze has long created swollen accounts, mythologies that bear no resemblance to actual Black/Brown lives, but then again; when telling myths or folktales; does truth even really matter? (ain't it ironic that most Black/Brown souls learn of self and others through White mythologies/folktales...those anemic accounts, often disfigured and heavy with invention never quite putting finger to pulse of truth—just reinforcing such contrived tales. i weep. i writhe and seethe in anger, in confusion, in everything in between IN the face of White eyes and White lies that tell us of our lives.
American Sonnet #3 [America is a place...]
American Sonnet 3 [America is a place...] America is the place of two laws and many lies. America is the place of two laws and many lies. America is the place of two laws and many lies. America is the place of two laws and many lies. America is the place of two laws and many lies. America is the place of two laws and many lies. America is the place of two laws and many lies. ive tried to offer rosaries of forgiveness, yet the stone eyes of Mary and upturned face of a cru- cified Jesus remain impassive and UNpassionate. America is the place of two laws and many lies. America is the place of two laws and many lies. America is the place of two laws and many lies. the journey to a Hell has never seemed as real as now.
American Sonnet #4 [Pride Month: queer people...]
American Sonnet 4 [Pride Month: queer people...] Pride Month: queer people never belonged in closets Pride Month: queer people never belonged in closets Pride Month: queer people never belonged in closets Pride Month: queer people never belonged in closets Pride Month: queer people season this often bland life Pride Month: queer people season this often bland life Pride Month: queer people season this often bland life Pride Month: queer people season this often bland life Pride Month: queer folk don't owe you any explanations for the spaces we take up. this earth has always been big enough to accomodate our various magic and manifestations. if you find that you do not or cannot handle queer people; then by all means get the fuck on! we do not nor have ever required YOUR permission to BE!