My Brother

My Brother

Juan Diego

 

 

like vines, twisted out from the same seed

reaching for the same light, 

choking on the same song 

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like two crushed birds 

under the same stone

 

We are timeless, the same gagging non-locust of time

vomiting the tender notes by which

The day measures itself 

And with it they’ll dance, the very same dance

 

We are ugly,

same strange, same home

two tired poets 

 

 

 

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Dream Life

Dream Life

Notes on a Text by James Baldwin.

Notes on a Text by James Baldwin.