Monday, February 28


I've been trying to juice this coconut of a life, 
by being nice.

I will be a rock and I will crack you open.
You want me to be hard
I will be hard
but I will crack you.
I will make of you orange juice;
lemon juice;
fruit punch;
and leave you out for whomever wants,
to drink you with a straw.

The night is over
the battle starts again
I am well prepared.

Friday, February 25

a political piece

Two lovers, one black and one white.
We lay in each other's arms, in a bed
by a window, in a room full of books,
in a room on a high floor of a tall building

We lay there whilst the city's law enforcement didn't know that we were there
But we knew that they would soon find out,
and come in,
and take us apart.

The scenario I wanted was that we would make love tenderly despite it all
and that when they would come
we would be in defiance.
When they would come to separate us
for being black
and for being white,
we would have been loving one another.

But he turned from me in indifference.
He lay on his back.
He knew, we both knew, that they would come sooner
or later
So he turned from me in indifference,
and waited at a distance
not making love.

So I wrote about that
about the distance between us as we lay in the same bed
about the sorrow i felt
about the harshness
of him turning on his back
laying in indifference.
About the paperclip that pierced my heart. 

And so my poem,
Everyone thought that it was just another love poem!
Alas! Not one person saw that I had tried
to write
a political


Thursday, February 24

the season to be joyful is now

I smell the spring, and the summer
coming this way.
I see its light!
and I hear its life budding.

God asks us to sacrifice so little!
And he gives us so very much.

Oh man of the city
in the valley
under the shadow of death,
do you think you are prudent?

Because if you are not lifting your eyes 
to the heaven above;
and if you are not cleaning your space
and making room for joy,
you are not.


Thursday, February 17

Cailagh and Launfal

One morning Bella Hooks came to visit. She told Kenza stories about her town. About once upon a time in a time not so far from now in the land of Teigue. There lived a boy and girl. Launfal and Cailagh. 

Launfal looked around him, looking for his father of for other men to hug him and show him how to walk upright and how to wear his beard. 
He looked for men to see him and his baby beard. 
But he only saw images of men. Wooden sculptures with mites eating the bases. He climbed on a bus shelter and screamed with joy as loud as one can. 
He called out to the others. But only his dad came out and slapped him silly for yelling in the middle of the day. And then his dad he went back to sleep. 
Launfal didn’t cry like a cry baby. He ate some roots and stepped on some insects.

The next day Celves came and took Launfal to a dark patch of forest from which I don’t know if anyone has come back. When sunlight enters the place light bugs flash feverously around him and distract him. Anyway, he is drunk and his memory is not that good. He forgets where he is not and what sunlight is.
On that first day the Celves rushed food and drink around him and tied his feet and his hair to a tree. They say that eating Celvish food makes mortals partake of the fairy nature and thus traps them forever in the fairyland.

But worst of all, Launfal does not know where he would go if he left from them. He thinks that he needs to eat all he can and become really fat before he goes back to Cailagh so that she will accept him back. But the fairies now place the food each day a bit further away from Launfal and he has to bend over to reach it.

Cailagh doesn’t know where the boy is. In the mist of morning she lies alone. 
The smell of morning and the promise of cold stir her heart. They awaken her mind. The coocoo bird says ‘Cailagh, he cannot come back if he cannot love.’
But Cailagh does not speak coocoo.

Bella and Kenza sip tea. Bella plays with her socks. They are thick and long and cotton. White with patterns embroidered all the way up. The kitchen is a brick red. The table is thick wood and the bright night outside is beautiful and full. 
They let the sorrow slip through their fingers and they clasp the warmth of the mugs. The scent of the tea is charming. 
The colors and the smells of their life comfort them and they keep their heads above water. Stress it eats through your skin and it does not help you to find any missing person. So they wish Cailagh the happiness she will need to work the land in the day and to talk to Launfal’s fattened figure if she finds him.