My Flag

I took my flag to church…with chimes ringing at noon.

I took my flag to church for healing.

I placed my

red…for the color of my skin

blue…for my mother’s sadness

white…for cleansing my weak mind

upon a ancient altar.

I waited for condolense from a religion I did not choose.

I brought my own incense

my native tongue.

I placed, delicately, the love and duct tape I had been born with.

I laid out the only tools I knew how to use.

I found no tranquility among the brick and mortar confines.

I found my soul crying out for her own mind.

Wrapping my flag about me…I stammered out…wearing a rainbow of colors …I refused to become blind.

Prolific Down at the Falls

bl n wh 1

Black and white images stream across yesterday…at today’s falls.

Profiles of cremated plots of Jiffy Pop.

And, with a splash, ‘not now’.

All in an instant, all in the wordy watered down words.

Thus, I ponder, why are these memories your’s to take?

Like a broken toilet handle…refusing to flush.

There is nothing like the taste of being…sour.

On this, the half past hour.

An, ‘I see you…’ on random country stores.

Black and white transformed into the derelict poor.

Prolific Falls…where do we go.

Prolific Falls, meant to be searched when solo.

When I had been young,

I learned to swim with a push.

When I had been young,

I learned to drive in a jam.

Sink and swim and hold on tight.

Tart and tangy memories in black and white.