GET FUCKED & DROWN
Unfortunately for you I’m back / from the dead bitch / like gossip you never wanted / to be spared from yes there’s a whitey / in front of me in this too full flight to Florida USA / & ofc his seat is leaned back like my lap is the west / bank & he’s a settler from Brooklyn & perhaps this is the closest I’ll get to domestic t/ee he! (can’t type that on a plane!) I wish it was 11/9 November is already a buttfuck / of a month someone I had heart eyes for titty slapped me at a party / & ofc I made it weird like TITTY SLAP ME ALL YOU WANT / I can’t say daddy as I recall convos where no one wants to keep their / srry not srry the plane hasn’t even taken off & / I’m already sick of Florida / the summer all autumn was proof enough / they’ll probably be underwater any year now but it isn’t coming / fast enough (tee hee only i can say that you masshole!) / there are good people here too / I guess / if good is what you make of the hole / of home the last time a place like this douched it came / as an ethnic cleansing & i mean it i want / literally every one of these motherfuckers to suffer for what they do / to Gaza to Lubnan to their Black & Brown & Native people / undying if innocence is dead then what to call Florida / this is necropower obvi / I’m just saying I want my land back / & yes I mean all of it / every river every sea & yes / the expense will be your lives / for once the next time / I see that cunt-a-saurus rex Mike F / I’m gonna say 911 KHHHHM@S IS ON SPEED DIAL & they’re coming from the back / yard kidding they’re an aerial nation from this side of the sea / they’ll come like a rocket to his windshield / in life my father always said to his enemies, I wish / REDACTED AUNTIE would jump on the hood of their car / I won’t explain that reference won’t break the contract I have / with my beloved dead I want them back too / or maybe they are the land beneath / my wings because who can afford wind / in this economy srry not srry this poem is haunted enough / by the ghosts we once could dance with / i must admit i am in love with violent resistance / like it’s a marriage worth failing harder at / think kill fuck marry without the institution of / bodies bodies bodies / maybe I’m saying that Florida does not simply leave one / unscathed unconsciously speaking / it isn’t the land speaking through my body as much as the myth of it / holding me hostage like a tongued out freak holds a eucharist bearing priest / put it in me daddy give me the body of / CRACKER at the end of my suffering let there be / a flood & my god / let it be the flood that ends all of this
Still (somehow) life with two dead Palestinians and a settler
Hijacking Diane Seuss
She leaves gentrified Brooklyn seeking nation, but instead finds two dead
Palestinians. One is strung up by its feet. The other lies on its side in a pool
of its own blood. The girl is sunburned with curly bangs. A too-small holster. She
wanted lies, not these beautiful dead. Not a small, dusky settlement from a bank of
dusks unsettled. Reach in. Choose a grave-robbed acre. She sleepwalked to this
country, her body led by its hunger for lies. Instead, this dead thing, ungracious.
Spotted green melons. Gold-plated stars. Iridescent-eyed ashage, sublime on the
___table.
A murder of gaudy crowns. She rests her elbows on the stone countryside. Why not
pluck a rib? Why lean against their house of gold if you cannot look the Palestinian
___in
the eye? The girl must pull the heavy corpse into the night and run off with it. Build
___a
fire on the bank of the river Jordan. Tear away the once-beautiful flesh. Suck
scorched, tough, dark meat off of bones unmarrowed. Look at her, ready to reach for
her gun. She’d hoped for lies. Countries beaded gold. Poems, useless as Americans
