“In America the concept of the thing became more important than the human being.”


comforter where is thy comforting?

blessed are the comfortable for they will receive alienation
blessed are the privileged for they will be forgetful
blessed are the rich for they know not their poverty
blessed are the powerful for they will suffer not their crimes

not yet

I’m thinking about the betterment of solidarity which is incarnation, which does not mean co-opting or de-centering the injustice from the oppressed, but becoming the oppressed thru DIVESTMENT.

I’m talking about nuns in El Salvador during the Civil War who were gunned down by a Reagan back/bought militia because in the eyes of the generals “identification with the poor was the same as identification with revolution.”

And there is no revolution more important than the shredding of one’s loins by giving away to the poor the way Van Gogh did, the way the blues & Jesus do. The giving minimizes the object & heightens the value of the people, both giver & receiver.

Choosing godliness not something to be beholden to
Christ-Jesus divested himself of all power to become a human servant
Obedient to all until death, & death on the cross.

Christ, our Passover, has been sacrificed for us. Therefore let us keep the feast.

The feast of life that is endless, that celebrates the abundance of life over the scarcity of death. A metaphor so strong that it could only be played out in the flesh: Nailed on a cross, It is now our Grace:

nowuuuI’d rather you be free
than chain’d to me;
I remain chained to thee,
no other place i’d rather be . . .



Tell me about the progeny of an illegal, an illegal herself. Who was brought up with well intention but ill advised. The direct product of grace & alienation.

Who has gone to school, away to school, donated a full college education, taught to revere the plain folk & fanciful powerful. Tell me about her.

How she wandered many a lonely starry night, chasing wind & tears & how the school formed her for jail.

& go into the descent, her isolation & depression & jail & her hunger for Truth.

& how one fine day she awakens to find herself chief amongst all protagonist. The foremost heir of the kingdom & a Lily & how her blood is not illegal nor legal nor American but divine royalty, subject of majestic piety.


AMERICA DEFINED, ə-ˈmer-ə-kə, un-noun

The only definition of America is that I am not it.

I am not the chief arms producer,
chief polluter,
world war winner,
world war maker,
I am not gun-toting, gone-worshiping, money-idolizing, sex-selling, over-narcotized, under-educated, cop-crime-amnestying, Zionist-funding and overly commodified.

They have tried to turn me into America.

But I did not kill Trayvon, Eric Garner or Mike Brown or massacre at Sandy Hook or Wounded Knee; that was America.

I am not the one who displaced my parents from their homelands so that they could have their wages stolen in America.

I am not who incarcerates for profit. I am not the judge and I do know how to forgive. For America to be forgiven she must first seek repentance & that is anti-American. What did Dick Cheney say? “America is non-negotiable.”

I do not need America. America needs me.
I did not impose dictators in the New World while cutting deals and stealing people from the Old World to colonize stolen land in the New.

I don’t write history for I am pre-historic. I was here before America & I will remain after.

I Know I am not America.

I did not need to go to war to realize that slavery was wrong. I don’t make people illegal. I don’t return refugee children to their deaths. I believe in resurrection & I sure hope America doesn’t for it will have to pay for atonement in punishment.

America is God.


before sacrifice
before world war
before capital
& punishment
before she/hit
before i/thou
before me, mine!

i saw you – naked – standing – there.
and ate fruit

and played lion
and followed lamb

and the dew was good
and paradise, new

good to us,
the light, the life, the sea was

all that was good in days
all that pains remains


Consider how much violence goes into your
every-day, perceived & actual, in soft
surveillance, in food produce, in alienated
services, into your “security,” entertainment,
relationships & energy consumption. Then,
consider how disgusting it is & how very

Stop. & consider the Lilies.

& what is the cost of peace?
And what are the measures? The
necessary anguishing unbelievable
imagination required for its
achievement. & Go & Do likewise.


some radicals (i call them false preachers & prophets) go promising that the individual does not matter and call you to sacrifice for a community or idea or dollar, but i say if love doesn’t start from your individual self, how does it grow?

we know hate is a renewable source of energy. love, too, is renewable but it takes more time, more work, more patience & passion, friendship.

some radicals say that books are not important. but we say this: the world began with a story & one of the reasons why i am not so miserable so horrible so destroyed as my father is because sometimes (rarely) i pause & consider the other. why do they hate me? why are you so miserable that you want no communication with me? it is books that taught me that each one of us is not a page or chapter but an entire catalog of wonder waiting to be harvested. books are not the only place where that is taught but i find it that readers are supposed to be challenged & eventually master the art of seeing the caves behind each set of eyes & the promise behind each individual.


A hallmark of liberal democracies is rampant depression cloaking the consumption of violence. Within these societies the professional class obsesses itself in specialization and technology. These fetishes trickle down to the poor and working classes who, unbeknownst to them, contain the only hope in true art & true music. The poor are demonized, the rich are idolized, every-one pretends to be happy & attempts to secure their happiness in various means of escape: religion, drugs, sport, fantasies, sex . . . Moreover, these people are always surrounded by screens, some luminous & responsive. Sadly, then (for our story), these screens never reflect our inner selves — or maybe they do and we have become too narcotized to see our nakedness, become too repulsed by our own beauty.


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