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Poetry Offerings From Alazka | Poem

 
Poetry Offerings from Alazka
 
 

UNTITLED

ODE TO THE PUBLIC FOUNTAIN

PERSONIFESTO

BIO



 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


 
 
 

VERY SOON WILL COME AGAIN

very soon will come again
the season when
fireflies dance on the lawn at dusk
hovering like tiny supernovas
to remind us
that tiny miracles abound
and magic is subtle but ubiquitous
just waiting for us
to notice
and care
about a moment
and a season
and a lifetime

to Alazka
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


 
 
 

ODE TO THE PUBLIC FOUNTAIN

The traffic spins wiedershins around Dupont Circle
And the sun sets
And families and bicycle couriers
And white yuppies and Salvadoran day-workers
And leatherclad lesbians arm in arm
And perfect yellow tulips
And perfect green grass
And perfect city scavengers
Share the circle
And cigarettes
And the evening air
And smile
As the sun sets.
At the center, stoic marble nayads
Still support a broad stone bowl
From which clear water falls on three sides
They somehow refer to Rear Admiral Samuel Francis Dupont
(Although I fail to see the resemblance)
And so they stand there
And the water flows
And the people flow
And the traffic mostly flows
And the sun sets.
If Dupont’s statuary sisters are the sun
Around which the whole scene orbits
My whole heart belongs to the moon
Not quite three feet tall
Cracked and faded grey stone
With a flesh-polished chrome periscope on top.
This city littered with monuments
And I could happily never see another;
To carve any man’s name in a city’s stones
Seems like a stupid joke.  Better to carve it in a bagel,
At least that way the birds will sing about it.
We did not make this city to remember Dupont
Or to show off our breathtaking hydraulic skills
We danced in such stone circles long before language
And we shall dance in them long after money.
We built this city
For the public fountain,
Stone so low and simple every child knows it well
And if all the navies and cities of history
Have achieved nothing else
There is much to celebrate in this tiny obelisk.
Hail!
For thirst is ours, simple and common!
Hail!
For we acknowledge this as a collective!
Hail!
For we have here something we all need!
Viva!
It is ours, we are ours,
The tourists, the homeless,
We are ours!
Drink deep
It’s free
Drink deep
It’s simple
Wait your turn
Then drink deep
As the sun sets.

to Alazka
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


 
 
 

PERSONIFESTO

for Cori, Erin, Princessed and all the other firebreathing grrls

Sister, can we talk?
There is so much to be done
And so much more to be undone
But before we get distracted the way we always seem to
Sister, aunt, friend, stranger, sisters,
Can
We *
Talk?

(* Just us
And you
And me
Could we be
Can’t we be
Just us
And you
And me
?)

And me?

I’m not the one who lied to you
Although at times I’ve been his tool
I’m not the one who held you back
While he cheered my brothers down the track
And though at times we disagree
This one was never your enemy
So...
Sister,
Can we talk?

I’m not the one who lied to you
He lied to me as well from birth
In every hateful horn he blew
He drowned the sound of our innate worth
But let us find a quiet place
To hear our footsteps as we walk
You choose the time, you set the pace
But sister, can we talk?

Or
Maybe
Just eat
Just us
I’m buying, it’s my turn
We could hit that corner restaurant
Where they offer me one menu and you another
And we can insist on your right to order from mine
Or we could just swap
Or whatever
But I have a feeling
What we both really want
Isn’t on either one.

Or maybe a personal kitchen would be best
It doesn’t matter who’s the guest
I will say thank you, I’ll say please
Commend the chef and pass the salt
These are my responsibilities
But this is not my fault.

Men have it easier.

This I have heard, again and again
First in whispers, then my heart and my head
And I know what I’ve seen and I know what I’ve read
But I was never men.

Men have done terrible things to you.

I do not doubt it.  Indeed, I’ve seen it,
Intervened where I could, when bravery served,
Other times cringing beside you, unnerved -
We have done awesome work constructing this Hell.
Men have done terrible things to me as well
And, oddly enough, invited me to join in
But, as I’m telling you, I always told them
I am not men.

I know the statistics and objective facts
Link my race and my gender to most inhuman acts
But I know what I’ve seen and I know where I’ve been
And I know I am not men.

Collective blame is such a tease
But before you lock us all in the vault
These crimes are my responsibilities
But they are not my fault.

Was I once hired someplace where you were not?
I know not, and never will;
But did I ever turn away from a soul in need?
I did not
And never will.
Did somebody mark all the cards we were dealt?
If so, they never told me
I wouldn’t have listened, I was building a house
In which to house someone to hold me.
There’s so much to say, and I’ve barely begun
But I’ll do what I can, and I’ll try not to stall
I know what I’ve felt and I know what I’ve done
And to be one man
Ain’t easy
At all.

This much I’ve figured out:
It has absolutely nothing to do with beer commercials.
It has almost nothing to do with superheros.
It has something to do with children.
It has something to do with service.
It has something to do with courage, something to do with integrity
And it has something to do with you.

I could tell you what kind of man I’m not
I can only show you the kind I am:
I’m not the kind to apologize for my instincts
But I will not let them rule my higher wisdom.
I’m not the kind to apologize for what little strength I have
But I will not allow it to serve those who are already mighty.
You will see me serve no flag or currency
Only those
Who are unable or unready or otherwise not allowed to serve themselves.
I will not be silenced by merchants of shame.
I will not be patient with my nation’s complacency.
I will not take what is not mine,
Including blame for things I never did.
You will see me try to understand you
But I will not make it a precondition for friendship.
You will see me attend your meetings;
I will not expect to see you at mine.
I will not apologize to Madison Avenue for losing my hair
Nor will I apologize to Berkeley for being heterosexual
But I will acknowledge that both are regrettable fashion “don’ts”
And shrug;
These are, evidently, the cards I was dealt.
I will try to be honest
But I’m better at being kind.
I will respect your every desire
If you’ll try not to yell at me for not reading your mind.
I will not invade any small foreign nations
But I might invent a few.
I will not knowingly exploit or enslave anyone anywhere.
I will give blood.
And, despite everything, I will vote.

I will not speak for all men
But I know I speak for many
I always tried to be your friend
I never was your enemy
I want to be useful
More than you want to need me
And more often than not
This has left me lonely
But I’d rather die lonely
And stand always apart
Than make a game of love
Or add one bruise to your heart.

I know what I know and I know what I’ve heard
And I cannot live in what you call a man’s world.
That is not my home.  I will not serve these masters
And as I turn away from their gates again
I see them reach out to welcome you in.
They smile politely and shake your hand
Because everything’s been going just as they planned:
You can work forty hours and still be mother and wife
Ah, but please count your fingers, love of my life!
I know what I know and I trust who I trust -
That man’s world is poison for either of us.

I was by woman born and raised
Spent half my life since then woman-crazed
I failed classes on fighting while you learned to talk
Sister
Can’t we

Can’t we talk without scanning each other’s words
For suspect connotations
Can we talk without testing each other’s words
For evil implications
We can talk about our androgenic wounds
Or about how we’ve been healing
But collective blame was Hitler’s game
And not one I find appealing.

I believe in collective victimization, I have seen it
But I am so very very tired of it, aren’t you?
Victims can be mass-produced
As can scapegoats, as can martyrs, as can survivors
And so very easily one can become another
While heroines and heroes and lovers and friends
Must be made by hand and heart
One at a time.  And this does take time.
This is why they are so much more precious.

I have on occasion been forced to make love against my will
But
I have never been raped, not as such.
I have however lain awake at nights
Fearing the worst for an absent dear one
And I have nearly wept for joy when she finally walked in and she had just
  missed the bus
And I have later wept with pain for others
Who were indeed taken by animals horribly wrapped in skins like mine
And some survived
And some did not
And that is the strangest face of luck.
I know no darker nightmare of impotence
Than remembering the beloved woman in shock
Who would not let me touch her
I still shiver to have felt so defenseless and violated
And there was nothing I could do
And there was nothing I could say
And there was nothing I could fix
And there was nothing I could heal
And there was nothing I could attack
And there was nothing I could write
And there was nothing I could understand
Except for, in years to follow, beginning to fathom the heart-wrenching
reasons Why
A perfect stranger
Who gets off the bus late at night ahead of me
And happens to be walking in the same direction
And happens to be female
Must walk briskly and reach for her mace or pistol
And assume I am her enemy, and in many ways less than an animal.

I have never been a rape victim.
I am nevertheless a victim of every rape, everywhere.

From this I have learned not to expect your trust
And perhaps that’s the worst part of all
But I learn also there are battles you must fight alone
Or in the company of sisters.
Not my will but thine be done;
If it is my fate to warm the bench while you get pounded in the field,
So be it.  Or I’ll carry the water for you, and proudly,
Considering how you carry my heart, my dreams,
Much more often than you seem to know.
But however I serve, wherever I am
I will still love.
I will not leave.

I need to believe
That for every brainbroken boy predator capable of such fearful madness
As a generalized assault upon the strange and dreaded womankind
There are ninety-eight
Who are simply baffled by beauty and scared by sex
And so confused by advertising that they will die without knowing what they
Want
And at least one
Like me
Yearning mainly for a chance for an equally generalized benevolence
And stumbling around
Not knowing where to begin.
 

Maybe
Just maybe
It just might be simple:
Begin
Again
Begin
Within
To know what I know and to feel what I feel
To give what I can and to take what I must
To serve no master but be faithful to all
To dance to what moves me and watch where I walk
To stop when I’m lost
And say
Sister
Brother
Sister
Friend
Can we
Talk?

Alazka  /  email