I believe in American dreams,
fraught with hallucination, plagued
by imagination, rustled and wriggling seams.
With regard to dreams, I believe bigger
is much more beautiful.
I believe boredom is a wretched waste of freedom
and I believe I’m done with all jobs necessitating
ill moods.
I believe in zesty, spicy foods, so that is why
I’m Trini first. And boy do I believe in art
in all its glorious colors, burnt sienna, royal blue,
teakwood, and taupe send shudders through
a flat parched plane. I believe main characters
and their flighty neighbors are all around us,
and it’s fun to collect them on the page.
I believe minimum wage is atrocious,
but, I believe for me, it feeds my dreams.
So even if the alarm should ring now,
or the sirens scream out now,
I am anchored somehow,
I believe.
A raw morning awakens, dewy and irritable,
to the gradual holler of the crisp yellow shell.
The fire is lit and beneath the seat of the grass
the ground wriggles, beckoned by beak and claw,
set off by the rising.
Green blades are shining high above the march of
miniature armies screaming barely audible cadences.
And everywhere everyone bites down as Earth
brandishes her beauty.
Those pleading eyes
Those gunshot upset bleeding eyes
Those half-assed promising lazy eyes
Those lying eyes
Those needy eyes
Those sweet-talking smooth walker steamy eyes
Those high-strung eyes
Those strung out eyes
Those beefed up chest out stubborn eyes
Those envious eyes
Those elephant eyes
Those blatant straight out greedy eyes
Those needy eyes
Those hiding eyes
Those hidden eyes…