Katrina

Katrina beat down on my conscience like drizzle
like spittle flung around the mic
Reminding me that I was apathetic but not yet drenching me in my responsibility
There were words flung round mics at the CoHo but that tv had seen teeming waters rise not long before, not years before
A year before we watched waters beat down on south asian shores
reminding us that mother nature had not yet left
That we had not pissed off ma enough to send her packing
But that she had just been silent
Waiting for our complascence
And then middle east, and ground splits,buildings fall upon us, collapse on us like books close
the COHO is too loud for theory. Can read daily, can read scifi, but the coho ain’t for de milio, ain’t forbutler, CoHo can’t study for MCATs or LSATs, coho can’t study to make a difference
But outside the spittle starts collecting
The waters start falling and God is spitting poetry that might remind us of our apathy, that begs those books reopen cuz ain’t no way I’m going out in that storm
And poets at mic become silent as waters rise, cuz our poetry can’t compare and silently we shudder as lightning tears the sky from the roof and reminds us that we are but boxed in, boxes of bodies that think they can keep the inside out but lightning tears through the sky through stars playing connect the dots and god lets it flow in upon us
There is no end to the rising waters, waters rising above our heads and into the oak lounge, oak room, oaks making delicate patterns in the water with their branches,
And the coho is a fish bowl and the fish bowl is full
There are ihum girls on stationary bikes, peddling faster to outstrip the racing waters
Forgetting they have but one wheel and that wheel is in rotation,
And she assumes it from her, who assumes it from her, who assumes it from him, who assumes it from her, from him, from him, and all anyone really wants is themselves
But chasing eachother round glass walled cages they forget their eyes outrace their minds and they say shit they didn’t mean
And eyes turn inward as glass fogs and mud stirs to create an opaqueness outside that lets the fish know the only ones ever looking were themselves
And muscles torn like selves before, their arms sore they cannot reach the surface
And so french fries at the treehouse, now a seahouse, beneath this house, the only ones still surface oriented are the oak room, an oakhouse, housing faculty forgetting who it was they came to teach, who not accounted for cuz they never showed at office hours
Hands rap at office doors, dark hands ain’t seen before
First time to darken door, feeling that I’ll darken door, dark hands ain’t seen before
Cuz no one told him that office hours were just excuses to schmooze
And no one told him that schmoozing was part of the degree
And unfortunate for him the flood races in through open doors and first to go
Yes, first to go, and last to get in, he breathes in water like salvation
And crosses himself once more, crosses his way to door after door only to find it locked
And no one ever told him that the keys cost extra
But flood waters don’t discriminate don’t satiate on bodies that know themselves dark
So, gays at the center keep dancing to the sound of the rain
While women beneath call out to be saved
But Whitney can wail and girl there just ain’t no Witneys left
So, the stereo booms silence into their ears
While fear drives murals off of walls and into the lungs of the women who painted them
Swallowing the colors of their impression, revealing bare walls that forget
Swallowing reds and greens they swallow anything they knew of their own empowerment and the gay male body is just another symbol for a closed door
Door swings open, crossing through to get a drink and back up the stairs, there is forgetfulness in his stroke.
But not all make it up the stairs, cuz this is California and we build sideways, not upways, we build skyspace, and greenspace and trees are our only refuge, but palmtrees don’t make for good climbing
We build pies that look bigger, more people get fed
But califas grows so fast can’t keep it all down
And big pies are high pies and high pies are half price
But 50% only means that we farm
So skyspace is prime space and no one gets up
As waters rage down
And clouds form darkness to cloak us all in
Riding skate boards and long boards, closet doors, dresser drawers we make our way across the waters surface
Reaching out into blackness we can feel the water roll over the bodies of our classmates
But their cries are silent and their flesh feels like fish and we squeamishly push them away
Cuz our arms are full of knowledge perfectly balanced and can’t bear to let anything slip
So we float on through nothing
Knowing not what our own saving grace will be.