Suffering is there.
Time is an even more savage dog.
Guilt, just as chismosa
of an animal: always nagging, judging, cooking shizz-nit up.
Masculine control can
get scary: that of dogs and specially that of oranged men.
The trash is picked up
as the riggota come in from their competitive sailing.
Friends, join me-
stand with me after the long night of despair and shout to the ever-present
moon: Yes, we will rise! Our chains are not chains anymore they are the musical
instruments that will take off the shackles that hurt us and our beloved.
Orange hair and orange
gaseousness will no longer touch this White House or the one on Penn Avenue.
Hamilton and his many ghosts have something to say about it- “Over my dead
body. Over my immortal soul!”
Resurrection resisting: momento a momento, breath 1 and then
breath 2, 3 breath, and then push again and then breathe again, evolving this
and every other nation’s sacred paper- Lady liberty will give birth again.
La Resistencia del Sur ha llegado a romper las
murallas del Norte. The
White House is ours! #resist
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