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POETRY

I had a nightmare Of planes droning Bombs blistering skin Littering the land with loosely tethered limbs Corpses identified with shrill screams Searching for the life in Eyes that have not blinked Embracing the shell of my love My only peace is knowing You are now free From this nightmare That will repeat I had a nightmare I couldn’t speak My mouth too dry My stomach too swollen My mind too foggy My ears too deaf To the sounds of silence Amidst death If I looked like you Came from where you came Prayed like you pray Could we be brothers then Only then I had a nightmare Nowhere was safe Not even A mother’s womb They say We are searching for evil I say You have found it in yourselves They say Your people do not exist I say You cannot kill the truth They say We will burn it all down I say The world is already ablaze

He shifted and sat traced the jacket sipped his drink lifted his brush lightened the mustard gulped down his glass finished his strokes blended the white of the eye put down the bottle felt her absence and silently he wept. He awoke in heat felt for the liquid sprung the cork wet his lips outlined a city smeared the paint dropped the bottle clawed for the pieces sliced his palm listened for the call heard a whisper propped his work and silently he left.

Maybe Jesus returned Time and time again His light met with skepticism ignored completely or outright stamped out He wandered the streets witnessing how humankind had stopped valuing each other’s lives Jesus reflected on this as he was locked up displaced homeless murdered by blade, bullet, and bomb Time and time again Reborn: Black, Brown, Asian, White Reborn: Man, Woman, Child in Transition Reborn: Muhammad, Ermias, Selena, X Reborn to feel the emptiness In the hollow halls of worship In the rubble Jesus moves among us Walking Crawling Rolling Starving Hurting Crying out For God

What happened to you Trauma Who hurt you Everyone Who loved you The Universe

Somewhere along the way our love got lazy I think it started when I said “I love you” And you said “me too”

my body sensed the rupture long before my head and heart came to agreement time twisted… kisses became bitter byes with no goodness

One day, at Twilight, The Moth asked The Butterfly, “What’s it like to feel loved?” The Butterfly was surprised. “What do you mean?” “When you fly, toddlers giggle as they chase you across the fields, adults grimace with glee as they get your beautiful image tattooed on their torsos, and The Sun’s embrace keeps your wings warm as you flutter amongst The Marigolds. What does that feel like?” “Moth, I must be honest, it’s a wonderful feeling. I wake up each day to The Songs of The Birds and The Buzz of The Bees. Why don’t you join me sometime?” “I wish I could...” The Moth replied longingly, “but I only go out at night. My only company is The Mosquitos, The Bats, and The Moon.” “Well, what does flying in The Moonlight feel like?” “It feels like... the one moment a month where all that is good inside of me comes to the outside… where I am light and light is me… It’s the only time I find myself smiling." The Butterfly was gleeful. “I want to experience that! I’ll join you the next time The Moon glows bright. And you can join me tomorrow when The Sun starts shining.” The Moth was perplexed. “But Butterfly, you exist during the day and I belong to the night; to be out at night would be against your nature; and I’m not sure that I can be out during the day.” “Moth, my friend, there is only one nature - our nature. We can fly when we want, and I want to fly with you.” The Moth was inspired and trepidatious (always trepidatious). The next day, The Moth and The Butterfly left the shade of tree bark and journeyed towards The Sun. The Butterfly, soaring above their friend, higher and higher, shouted with delight, “Isn’t this fun!” There was no response. “Moth! Isn’t this fun?” There was no response. “Moth?” There was no response. The Butterfly peered below to see: The Moth f a l l i n g Their sensitive eyes Blinded by the light Their furry body Overheated Their smile Crooked but fixed The widest it had ever been As they landed flat Into a bed of Marigolds Lifeless And Full of life.

Faggot Faggot Faggot Faggot Faggot (When) Faggot Faggot Faggot Faggot (Will) Faggot Faggot Faggot (It) Faggot Faggot (End) Faggot Faggot Faggot Indian faggot Faggot Faggot Fa— oUcH! WhY DiD YoU HiT Me?I WaS JoKiNg Faggot

Where are you from? I’m from here. No, really, where are you from? I’m from here. Ok, but before then, like where are you from originally? You’re talking about my familial ancestors? Tracing the flow of my blood and my sacred lineage cross-continentally? Yes! Yes! Yes! India. I knew it. … Where are you from? Here, duh. No, really, where are you from? Here! Ok, but before then, like where are you from originally? Meee? I’m just white! Whitey white white. But what if you trace your lineage? … You know, even white t-shirts can claim ancestral roots: Gildan Hanes Fruit Of The Loom Wait, that sounds about right: I’m from “Hanes”

Isn’t it exhausting to constantly be caught between You are not enough And You are too much

You walk down sewered streets with dancing smoke, muffled sirens. Ignore the beggars, they can see through you, and avoid the men with dripping mascara, they have faulty treasures. This is the land of the corrupt, a hidden pond of pleasure. Palm trees fold into the night, not to witness the games the ghouls have come out to play, longing for respite, yet chasing decay. Lights are flashing a haze of white, yellow, green, and red – a blur before your eyes, a dizzy stupor. They blind you to the child of six standing beneath three middle-aged men. Leashed. The pollution burns your lungs and coats your tongue, protecting you from the perfume, the alcohol. Get out. Get out. The women outside the clubs call out desperate for you to come in. Keep walking. This is no time to rescue anyone from a false paradise.

Playing Candyland is like riding a roller coaster that only does loops while someone shoves jelly beans down your throat, all of them popcorn flavored. Queen Frostine used to be your main girl, she let you jump ahead a couple of times. What happened, baby? Why’ve you gone so cold? Princess Lolly lost her sweetness too. Even Gramma Nut shut her door. Now all you pick up is Plumpy, a fringe diabetic who’s blobular from eating his own kind. That troll will drag you down. Cheating is the only option, so suck it up and be prepared to count colors because Candyland is merciless and Plumpy is the god of death. If you liquefied this board you would get codeine. That’s how it’s made. Right?

Wrinkled eggshell skin Glasses resting on smoky streaked hair A snarl stamped on her face Like a western Kabuki mask When The children pop up to ask a question She says Sit down! No time for questions She says Hands up! Intermittently and without clear purpose An exercise in power She says Hands up! And all I can think is Don’t shoot! She says Hands up! I think Don’t shoot! They are too young! You don’t have to be police To police And kill the beauty of a bus ride

Rabby would jump, juke, slip, skip and spring. He squished and fluttered, stuffed into a toy car with an imaginary engine. Marshmallow soft, he slept until I awoke to find yellow stains and little brown pellets that littered the hardwood floor. He was exiled: a steel cage with bars so thin that they dug into fur and it showed. The walls took their toll. The gardens were out of reach. And my innocence struck a nerve.

Less is less when We sit stagnant Satisfied in our stupor of Saying “Nothing making sense” When we fail to ask Why systems don’t work When we fail to ask Those most affected by them And those who work Work Work alongside Those most affected Less is more when We remove bullshit hurdles Rule beating grant apps Less documentation Requirements be gone Delays be damned We say “Do your thing” We tell others “I want them to accomplish What they need to accomplish” And say Please “Let us learn from you” Asking “How can we be better Funders? Partners?” More is more when We come together to enact Collective action Unified against Urgent threats Like the pandemic Like the economic collapse Like Derek Chauvin and and and Although Wasn’t there enough Urgency before to Unify us When People sleep on sidewalks When Children have starved minds, empty bellies When Half the city is on fire Not every child’s eyes burn of blue light In the digital age Not everyone has internet But still We come together to provide it Hopefully when foundations Tire of the word Equity When it becomes White noise They will not think “Keep being scrappy While We keep being rich” No They will say "There is abundance Sit with us Or stand Now Where is home for you?”

PROSE
Master's Thesis: 
Emerging Media for
Social Justice Storytelling.
The Low-Income Housing Tax Credit (LIHTC): Addressing the Need but Not the Want
Systems Report:
The Housing System and the Criminal Justice System
Inclusion, Diversity, Equity, and Accessibility (IDEA) Reflection
Slide Deck: "The LIHTC: Addressing the Need but Not the Want."
Case Study: Can Mayor Adams Solve Homelessness?
Sandbox 414 Strategic Plan
Social Media Audit: SHIMMER Women Athletes and AAW Pro Wrestling
On: Income Portfolios,
"The Black Elephant in the White Room."
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