His Ride High

Riding my Harley...fresh air...warm breeze...
a time to commune with something other...
other than the lonely that wants to visit on quiet evenings in Albuquerque...
Harley and I are out on tour...inhaling Manzano Mountains

Shonnese C.L. Coleman
www.everflowingpoetics.info

That is what I said

I said it again and again
a circle of words, explanations to the same end
a dead end full of talking.

I repeat it, spell it out, dance it
so you can see
and dance it too
but we return to the same spot
where two walls meet and there are no windows
openings
or resolutions.

Baby and I have in common that

The moon's not full
and I'm already overflowing.
The gals with the charismatic uteri
went east and I think they're pulling 
it from me early, from their early time zones.
So many non-bleeders. 
They clomp up and down the stairs
pound the piano keys
grind beans.
I like to sleep late and nap often
and not take ibuprofen.
Feel inside like a butternut squash deseeding,
the stringy parts hold on, so you scrape 'em!
Or like someone wants to eat the thigh of an animal,
dragging fat from the muscle with a spoon.
Today I ate a pill to stay sweet for a baby.
Dripped into the cloth so blandly
it didn't even feel like mine
except for how hot it was
and the steam.

We like to talk about stuff that comes out of us.

One tree is bigger than the other tree.
But one bug gently shifts the blame,
buttoning one bug's blouse.
And luckily it's got to have an end, because there's tugging.

Would a wind in the next door lake float?
Why answering?
Why scaring off the quiet that had stayed?

 I'm cluttered by your lurking.
I'm back to shirtless in a panic.
I'm tucked in traffic, tidy as a plum.
Soulful port city! Antlering
(my sons sons sons sons sons)

Dreams in Vanilla Skies

I used to want to be a white girl
On my knees at night,
praying for god to make my skin match my mom's high yellow complection
at the very least,
I was tired of being the familys black sheep,
something like a beast by crushes/in the school yard
girls making fun of me,
confused as to how and why my ass was so stuck out.
I once sang whitney houston's I will always love you to a boy I liked,
and despite
the silky smooth melodic tones relaying my affection,
he wouuldn't even glance in my direction,
it was then
That I decided at 10,
I needed to be a white girl.
So I too could be like the california dream girl next door,
not the oreo kunta kente in a mask with skin of mahogany or ebony
depending on the month.
subjected myself to torturous tactics overcoming curly-kinky hair transitions to smoothed out mane.
Spend the day shaking it like Beyonce
it didn't help to be well educated when no one listened to you speak,
muffling your presence with their snickers & laughter,
back then it was approval I was after, because no one ever told me I was beautiful.
dads foot had been on the gas since age 2,
and mama taught me to become a lady i'd have to straighten up and walk right.
But when you're a kid and don't know what you did wrong
its hard to hold your head up high.
Except to look towards the sky and ask god why
he didn't make me a white girl.
With perfect hair thats down to there, that doesn't snap a combs teeth.
why my waist.is a size 2 but hips are a size 6.
Why I am the fantasy but not the.reality of my love interests.
Why was i cursed like this?
It would take 8 years,
6 lovers,
4 years of sports &
2 eating
disorders
To find the answer in the arms of a love that reflected my insecurities as perfection
assured me that there is nothing wrong with a curve to your backside,
A sway to your hips,
kink in your hair
and plump to your lips.
And I been in love with my body ever since
Needless to say
I no longer pray to be a white.girl Because.when I  think about.it, having it naturally is better than becomming a science experiment.

Love & Light,
Joi Sanchez
visual & performance artist
www.jsanschez.wordpress.com

--the tattoo is half-done and already I'm having second thoughts.
      a stack of Charles Schulz books
but one bug buttons up a lucky blouse and gently shifts the blame
on a shelf and the parents describing the recent
stabbing in Dobbs Ferry,
who? s'lander s/oon/e.r.!
A 1930s showtune about an imported plant species my old me,
I've denied him sovereignty
so on so pumped so ReDDy
     so         so                so

News at 6, Narcolepsy at 7, Full Report

The child's eye scraped, a wild escape
across a bamboo stake, a badmood rake
direct connect to Full Scream Mode, dream a la mode
So, news. You wait. It comes.
The whole child slumps, no dyed lumps
leg dangling off the exam table
breath curled around the oozing part,
child curled around the oozing part,
mother balanced shoulderhipknee in a curl
around the oozing part, a downtown boozy tart
sleeps up high in railroad space
narrow rails vibrate against her _ _ _ _

kripplebush

being the other kids
who were on vacation when everyone packed up the house
and moved to kerhonkson
we had to do the yardwork to make up for it

our heads were itchy from the lice we'd caught
from a b&b in cape cod

i mowed right over a hornet's nest
and got my legs covered in stings
but i did not cry

nor on my ninth birthday when i was reborn at quarter past midnight
in the tent we slept in all summer
smashing down the walls in our house with sledge hammers
and walls in other houses too

July 2

bunny black dips back in time
forcing beach loam through this straw we found

completely outspoken, really!

that thing, shy clips
patting down habitual franky
oh, frankness

if this is where its at
how come its practically so often

and if you are really so
then let's call it a lesson.

Quiet Tenant Snaps

Tonight I await peace and quiet from the 2-person orchestra-riot outside...
Loud nonsense triggers the Warrior in me...she opens the fire-escape window,
she yells "MARCO-MARCO, shut the hell up and give him his $10 back so I can go to sleep"
Marco throws his bottle of Corona at her...
She-Warrior catches the bottle,  jumps from the fire-escape window, lands on Marco's back,
then cracks the bottle upside his head...the wait is over...Tonight will be peace and quiet...

Shonnese C.L. Coleman
www.everflowingpoetics.info

July 1

Ignoring a kid's trapped limbs isn't hard on a Sunday.
(Worst case scenario: I watch the TV of your neck a little too long). He sweats the night, not sweetly or soundly, more like the bitch tendencies of the car, naked, new pink...

Dad fell into a bee's nest: it was a letter from the host (as we'd earlier named it)
so much, so long, our steady conditioning. And now airy sense passes into longing and Friday wins.

lately i am into rules and vulnerability

thinking of Allison I remember [fear of other people's secret knowledge] 

I have been almost enjoying how embarrassing it is to be honest about my life

some people are so dear

some things are non-linear or w/e but other things grow back, like my power.

me right now, i guess

i remember when big bees were terrifying
and their stingers threatened to get permanently stuck
but this one is a sad fat thing that can't uncling from the curtain
and fly back out the window that i left open

but things change and anything can happen to anyone at any time
sometimes i just picture a random person and think about how i will learn that they just died.
probably on facebook, which is maybe a good reason to never read facebook. never good news, just proof that time is passing.

this summer days are longer and i only pee outside
and i always bike past the last place we were when you made me feel really sad but it actually really helps i think now
it's nice to have a stack of books and stuff and know which way the clouds usually move and what time the current is gonna shift so it's less dangerous to swim
"the best advice if you get stuck in a current, don't fight it, just get out of the water"
says the man with the Rott & Lab
"a rotten lab"

for crying out loud!

the last seventeen steps until
the first time you chip those nails
fingers soaking under the table
is a secret not a treat, the
distinction finely pulled between
retorqued untightened teeth
next to be found gnawing
on reconstituted gelatin: delight!

Poem 1 of 7 in 7 - Alive

I am 

the powerful voice of the past

gathering in a storm at the back of my throat

ready to belch out the present

which has been trapped in a flutter

on the tip of my tongue

I am 

the ashy skin wrapped vagabond

never looked that

ready to lash out 

just to fill my soul again

I am 

the screaming child of innocence

left unattended

in the wastebaskets of a loveless home

I am

the wingless bird

still unafraid of flight

I am 

all manners of life

I am I am Alive

Chaos

Dead already
full moon Tuesday won't change won't help
it's Monday we'll forget
his chest expanding into chaos
his death, chaos, for me, for July
on Tuesday I'd like to go swimming
to remember past Monday, to Tuesday, and stop

it was a lonely thing
for me, for everyone who talks to me
now it's been so long, embarrassingly long
I barely knew him, a cautionary life
his structure already re-aligned, I have yet
to face horrors, though i fear forgetting
to swim, becoming too shy to plan to swim
I don't fear I'll face chaos on Tuesday
or on Monday, or after Tuesday or soon.

When it happens, the bad bad day, I'll forget him
he's already dead, a bookmark holding the bad day's place
training me, forcing me to love wrongly, to fear not.
On Tuesday, on the full moon, open-mouthed, warm
looking at my imagined parallel, oppressively relating
waiting for thunder, on Tuesday, the full moon
and Wednesday is the Fourth of July.

Emma, remember Rocks and Trees?

It will be too dangerous to swim on Tuesday
I was never a girl-scout, I think that's why
I tried, and forgot, and failed, and still have not seen chaos
have not been refreshed

Migraine

Migraine

for elf

The migraine was an invasion

and once complete

the offense set up camp

and organized

Her brain was divyed up into territories

a map drawn and posted

on the inner wall of her skull

Command in place

intelligence sealed in

emotion airtight 

The pressure was bold and seductive

She sank down into her bed and rested

giving in at last to the charm of the fog

that comes with surrender

Good morning

First world, first world
cat bowl in the microwave
metal cat bowl and radiation,
floating past humiliation.
Welcome to the second world,
first world,
first world,
what a good morning.
Fist world.

Damned MTA (a 60 sec. rant)

No matter the day, in some infintisimle way,
all problems can be traced back to the mta
Yeah I said it
and i'll continue to do so
Until these mofos get it together
Should you really build another subway line when you have to close mine in inclmate weather?
I'm just sayin,
the high ther fares,
the more trains delayin,
like you just take our money for track laying
I for one of sick of it
Ya'll need to quit the sh*t,
get over it,
and get ur sh*t together.

<3 jsanschez

July 1st

Summer-Heat-Hot-Sweltering
Sweat-Pellets on the forehead
Dripping-my-travels down
Settling-Neat in the small of my back
Blinded-3rd-Eye see my sun light...
thank you for mugging me in your shine

Shonnese C.L. Coleman