We Outlast Empire is a recurring series which aims to highlight poetry that explores the many angles of our current global and political situation. With words, we hope, we may transmute a part of ourselves—a part however small or large—that can exist without drawn borders, without violence, without injustice.
I don’t have all the answers. A recent problem is the sudden expansion of everyone’s
criticality. The ratio of beef egg & onion in that bowl of Udon. Ghost her, she prefers
High Life to Budweiser. The restaurant was really, really busy: 2 stars. Hey, folks,
the president feels intelligence briefings aren’t totally necessary. An NSA wiz kid clicks
through your gchat history; she knows your boyfriend is a ho. I’m no double barrel,
but I like to cover a wide space. I don’t have all the answers: this digital domain
is troll territory. Online, the majority of user accounts are African-American & support
the neo Nazi alt-right narrative. A quick prayer for the end of the road. Quasi anonymity
broke all omertas. Status update: Some real ignorant shit. There is a congressional bill
limiting how a woman may exist. My mom remembers colored only drinking fountains;
she is still in her fifties. Items in the rearview are closer than they appear. (I’m empty.)
Crack Cocaine is schedule II, marijuana schedule I. Sorry, what? An entire city’s water
supply is unusable, but tell me more about the new Celebrity Apprentice.