Ars Poetica for Cairo

ars poetica for Cairo


set it down. this pen almost burns my hand

to be thrown for you, Brother. throw it up

in air. create fireworks and


better odds,

i will remember you.


and/when the clarity of night falls and/you

still smell the burning up in your nose.

the clay. smell the clay.

smell the people

and their sweet sweat.


when the beastly,

broken night falls (which it will

and slow)

let the waters of the Nile crawl

up the banks of Cairo and hold you in its

wretched, regal



yrself or harm yrself /

let there be no

excuse for peace.

i believe because of ignorance:

i don’t know about the hunger strikes,

don’t’ know about the hunger strikes.

i don’t know about the votes bought

by another’s dollar sign, but /you do.

and i testify.

angry pen and broken bone testify.


and this be the way the blues were born.


blues. as an erect man on two feet

standing on a steel tank. blues. as a man

standing like a chair under that

enormous and hot sun.

illusion, illusion and

ache weep. (with

that same man, crying) deep between

the barricades


is illusion and ache where

they have no orders to action.


(cannot move)


peace is an illusion.

love is

not is

love is

not is

there be no excuse


for an illusion for peace for hunger

for Blood. Death. Brother, i will remember


there be no excuse.

there be ache. wild and furious.

the pen. there be blues.

against better odds, Brother,

illusion will not leave here until


damage done.   we can’t go

back to step by step

revolution. we can’t go back to

interruption by whistle. the revolution

will not be televised. just keep quiet

and ask this poem for a song of hope.


i ask this poem for a song of hope.

i ask this poem to remember hope.



-Minneapolis, February 2011


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1 Comment

  1. I wouldn’t be commenting if I didn’t like this blog.. you’re a great writer & I’m quite impressed to say the least. keep up the nice work


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