Occupy This Poem

Hey, y’all.

African antelope mask

Here is a poem I wrote during one of the last days of the Occupy Nashville encampment at Legislative Plaza. I was unsuccessfully trying to meet up with the last camper for an interview. I committed to wait for 45 minutes as I’d already made the trip and the beautiful, Saturday afternoon light after the camp’s General Assemblies was something I loved about the place. I was scribbling in my journal when a gorgeously attired wedding party erupted into nuptials right before our eyes.

Calling the Lions

In the flashing light
blasting back from
the windows
on the third floor
of the museum,
the sun is behind me.
It’s staring me down.
My neck is warm above
the collar of
the black
sweater
with the
small
holes
that I wear so often
my compañerita calls it
a uniform.

I am a lieutenant in this here army.
Or I may not be.
It’s not for me to say.
I’ve classified it – even from myself, and
I should know:
I’m in intelligence.

Now there’s a wedding party herding
through the plaza and
it takes many hands to hover
an expensive gown
above the ground.

I’m here to interview
a young man
who’s been described as a
sacrificial lamb.
Another paper quoted him
saying
“You go hard or
you go home and
I ain’t
going home.”
But we all are,
aren’t we?
All of us, eventually.

I’m watching a bridesmaid stutter across marble in
too-high
too-thin
heels
and I’m watching the antelope
murmur
in a glade
in the gold of some
faraway sun.

This pen is a bleeding bone.
These words
call the lions
from their
viaduct
dens.

Stay awake!

Watch this performance of my OccupySong at Occupy Congress in DC!