amidst the worst i have seen the best

amidst the worst i have seen the best
a man one cold night who breaks a lock

a prairie pond in a fenced-in block

a heart-shaped hole in a hornet's nest
a single star in a sky of black
a council under the red line track
a page filled up with a soul expressed
a single tooth pull corn off the cob
a last mile driver who quits the job
a teacher sleep when she needed rest
a child so bored that she builds a clock
a crowd of stray dogs that form a pack
a tiktok trend that ignites a mob
a swarm of pigeons ascend in flock
a people taking their whole world back
to share the bounty the bankers rob
and at long last make the least the blessed

This is the Year (2022/5783)

 This is the Year
after Martín Espada, and all prophets

This is in fact the year that squatters evict landlords,
meeting like city planners in the open of the parking lot
or sipping coffee with a blessing
for watching morning rain through the window;
this is the year
that brown-skinned refugees
ship governors to islands
who stare at their feet on the plane anticipating
the hospitality they are due;
this is the year that police glocks,
scalding-hot, burn the hands
that grab them,
and tasers backfire
on their wielders;
this is the year
that Indigenous children
buried under boarding schools
return to play on swing sets
and ask the teachers
difficult questions.

This is the year that those
who cross deserts with their children
and lay hushed in the backs of trucks
are greeted with trombones and choirs
at the first town boundary
on the other side;
this is the year that the hands
drilling fence post holes into concrete
unearth stones carved with the original names
of the land beneath the concrete,
the hands operating circular saws
are cast in silver and mounted over the doors
of the giant glass towers they build;
this is the year that the eyes
stinging from contaminants in water
used to wash dishes
awaken at last to the sight
of sunflowers and grasshoppers,
pilgrimage of refugee roots;
this is the year that rats
grow fat in petting zoos, that no mother
wakes to the sound of rodents
chewing through her tent;
this is the year that billionaires
apply for Unemployment Assistance
and no tax dollars are given for bulldozers
to demolish Palestinian families' homes
in Eretz Yisrael.

If the abolition of slave auction blocks
began as a vision of humans unshackled,
then this is the year;
if the shutdown of witch trials
began as imagination of humans
unafraid of burning stakes, drowning stones, or the gallows,
then this is the year;
if every revolution begins with the idea
that arrogant barons in fine clothes
are not divinely anointed lords, that they too drown
if swallowed by the sea,
then this is the year.

So may every plundered body,
veins like desecrated rivers,
rise with the Waters of Life.

#RiseUpTown

Amidst cicadas roaring as the August moon waned new,
in Uptown, where the lakefront parks are lined with tarps and tents,
the stewards of tomorrow came to camp and demonstrate  
the meaning of the People – what is possible to do.

We made peace with our broken pieces, homes with zero rents,

a glimpse of what the world could be – a scene to emulate

in open disregard to those who buy and speculate

upon the land as their own private wealth, and build a fence.

We say the ones who call it home must build this land anew

And woe to those who see our size and underestimate.

The covenant is broken; we are here to make amends.

And day by day, we watched our tents and saw how our camp grew

despite evictions, lies and threats and storms, still we remain

in RiseUpTown, where we the people always rise again.

Our New Anthem

 Our New Anthem

after Aris Kian

in the age of streaming, gofundmes,
& the great so-called resignation

PUA, NFTs, & YouTube monetization
TikTok trends & endless wars
an apocalyptic phantom

if we need a revolution
we forsure need a new anthem

we need an anthem remixed from
the fragments of our struggles –
from a sunrise over Occupy
& the bills your sister juggles
on a beat that samples voices lost
in Ferguson, Missouri
over war cries sung at Standing Rock
full of all our tender fury

& the rawness of Snotty Nose Rez Kids
& the earnestness of Chance
the intensity of Saba
& the beat to drive the dance of Calle 13
not to mention the intelligence of NoName
& the soul of our Jamila Woods
we who wrote rules to our own game

cuz the older one was so lame it couldn't lead us any further
down the highway of our history / like a static frozen cursor

this new anthem has not been recorded,
written, mixed, or mastered
but it's being sung on every tongue
making beauty of disaster

we the students, we the teachers,
we the artists in the basements,
we the poets, we the dancers,
we the drummers, we the bassists,
we the beatmakers, the singers,
the kids who color outside the lines,
the self-employed content-creators
making the content of our times,
we the hackers & the bloggers,
the astrologers and nurses,
we the workers & the unemployed
counting blessings, shouting curses

we the people, come to cash our check
& make the last the first

our anthem will be sung in chorus
in every single language
over every human rhythm
at every factory abandoned
every picket line & protest
every jail & tent encampment

till the day we take our world back
& gather at the banquet

then we'll stand for our new anthem
with our hands upon our hearts
& we'll sing together

then, at last,
the true music will start.