Skip to main content

PHOENIX: The Science of Restoration (Taylor McCleery Sloey-Lafayette, LA)


You got burnt to the ground sitting on a curb outside of an educational supplies store. On a Tuesday. Between his evening shift and weekly excursion for discounted beers at the corner bar with the guys. The scene felt reminiscent of the summer you sat on the sidewalk falling in love with each other’s words til 4 in the morning. Sting. Burn. You see, the elaborate surprise birthday parties candlelit dinners prepared and hidden notes on bicycle spokes no longer compared to the prospect of brief international travel and French pussy.
Matches lit to the tone of “I can’t explain but you’re just not enough anymore” Hissed from a tongue you once knew like your own. Spark Flame Fire ablaze You fell apart. Amorphous ash. And like the phoenix, was forced to slowly collect your charred carbon chemistry And reassemble it into plumage, or a forced smile “I’m really doing fine… considering”
Mythology misled us The resurrection of the phoenix is not a one-time event but rather you rebuild yourself again every day. Some days with a wingspan malformed and misshapen But we build ourselves again
And it is this process by which we are superhuman By which we are magic We are vulnerable We are resilient We are stupid enough to love again We are New Orleans We are Haiti We are Japanese island cities in the center of Tsunamis We are Hiroshima Vietman We are ephemeral springs, and volcanic lavas We are Ralph Nader and we just keep running for election through the GREEN PARTY We are impossibly naïve and skeptical But we rebuild
And sometimes this process occurs in the form of crying for six days And sometimes it occurs in the form of putting your mouth on every man and gin & tonic in town And that’s ok Because the fires are Are inevitable and unavoidable
But like the forest We return more lush, More diverse and more beautiful each time we burn.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

This Little White Boy Who Wanted Some Nigger In Him (James Leland Ludeau III - Lafayette, LA)

Grew up on a plantation
Removed
Secluded from the world
I knew classes but didn’t understand race
Because what raced through my veins wasn’t something of which I could ever speak
My father could fuck the slave girls
But I couldn’t touch the men
It filled me with resentment
Fueled my resentment with lust
Until it was too much to take
It was a small contained community
White as the cotton in the fields
Only dark around the edges where the black men lived
Ploughing the fields
I’d imagine them ploughing me
Sinewy
Glistening with sweat as the sun bathed their shoulders
The sweat running down until it pooled around the waistband of their thin cotton pants
Their skin
Black, almost indigo, like night
Some like coffee with milk in it
Cafe au lait
I could smell their musk
Watched as their muscly bodies worked
I yearned
Burned
This little white boy who wanted some nigger in him
To fall beneath the weight of one
As he heaved
As he forced his throbbing cock into my crevice
I longed for even the pa…

"I Love You" is Enough (Louis Toliver Jr)

Please don’t stress I see what you do all year Everyday you show me Through your actions How much you care for me But please don’t stress It’s not money or possessions That make me give my life to you It’s the moments that are small When people don’t care to look That you show your love most So don’t stress to demonstrate What you already know you do Just say “I love you” and… My underwear will come off for you

Poet's Cry for Mike Tidewell (Barry Sons - Berwick, LA)

I heard the Politician say in a hunter’s whisper, “There’s a poet in the marsh, I heard one today. He was crying about the marshland’s accelerated decay.”
“Mr. Politician, can you help us anyway? I refuse to think our marsh is so quickly Going away. If we can scan the galaxy And bring men back from the dead, Why can’t we save our marsh? I can’t Get that around my head.”
There’s a poet in the marsh, I heard one today. Whining and crying; Who needs them anyway?” “Mr. Politician, I’m here to make you feel. Try to wrap your heart around the things that Are real. Like love and friendship passion and Sorrow; the love of earth and concern for tomorrow.”
“There’s a poet in the marsh, I heard one today." Mr. Politician, I cry for America’s wetlands,