“…and who is my neighbor?”

Jesus replied,
“a man was going down from [insert place of work,
convenience store, home, or church] to [insert place of work,
convenience store, home, or church] unarmed,
and fell into the hands of officers, who stopped him for
[insert _____-ing while Black reason]. they shot him,
stood above his leaking body, and left him for dead.

now, by chance, a white man [Evangelical]
was going down his Twitter feed.
and when he saw him, he scrolled quickly past
saying, #BlueLivesMatter.

likewise, a white woman [Presbyterian]
came to the place on her Facebook feed.
she saw him and scrolled quickly past
saying, #AllLivesMatter.

but when [insert the least expected] saw him,
they came near. moved with pity and outrage,
they went to the dead man’s family
to bandage their wounds, pouring action
and appropriate silence as compassion.
they put the burdens on their backs,
addressed them as they were able.

the next day they had not forgotten,
but took two friends and encouraged them
to more than march or hashtag the moment,
saying, ‘we will continue the Work together.
be not afraid: the Lord will repay
whatever social capital we spend.’”

then Jesus asked,
“which of these three was a neighbor
to the man who fell into unholy hands?”
the [insert an asshole “playing devil’s advocate”] said,
“the one who acknowledged his dignity.”

and Jesus replied,
“now go, and do likewise.”

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First published in Poemeleon A Journal of Poetry’s The Truth/y Issue: Volume XI Spring 2020

Two school poems in The Revolution (Relaunch)

I am happy to be a part of the historic The Revolution (Relaunch) with their acceptance of two of my poems.

I’ll let the titles speak for themselves:

  • “an open letter to the white teacher who threw a Black boy out of her class for wearing too much lotion”

    &

  • “an open letter to those wondering why I’ve called this the most racist place I’ve ever worked”


#NoChill

Read them here

On the Cultural Appropriation of the Dead and a New Poem Published

I went to a writing conference shortly after Toni Morrison died. The conference was fine for the most part. Ideas were fleshed out. Writing was done. Some lovely scenery and people.

Click to read

Click to read

But then there was the obligatory panel discussion to lament the passing of a literary icon. All well and good.

Until I looked up at the panel and noticed something strange but, sadly, not surprising.

The poem I wrote in response was published by the good people at Bryant Literary Review .

It’s called “an open letter to the white feminists holding a literary panel on Toni Morrison.”

And you can read it here (pg 65).

"Sai no Kawara" -- New Poem in The Ekphrastic Review

Jizō Bosatsu,1279.Artist in Japan,Wood, lacquer, bronze, gold leaf and crystal.

Jizō Bosatsu,1279.

Artist in Japan,

Wood, lacquer, bronze, gold leaf and crystal.

On a recent visit to the Peabody Essex Museum (Salem, MA), I came across this striking figure on display.

The work alone stirred something within me, but after I read up on his story, I began drafting in earnest. The world being the terribly small place that it is, a week later some of my students gave a presentation on a short story wherein the mythos behind this statue is a key component.

So in a way this poem is three-times ekphrastic: the mythos, the statue, the modern short story.

In any event, the good people at The Ekphrastic Review have seen fit to publish my poem Sai no Kawara.

Virtual Reading for Poets in Pajamas

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I did a thing. I don’t think I brought shame upon the family name, but I won’t ever watch this to find out, so you’ll have to let me know.

Or don’t.

The Set List

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Poets in Pajamas Reading on Facebook Live - May 10th

,

I’ve been selected to participate in Poets in Pajamas reading series on Facebook Live!

On Sunday, May 10th I will be reading selections from Teaching While Black, answering questions, and trying not to bring shame upon my family.

We’ll see what happens.

Here’s the event page link: https://www.facebook.com/events/1162329310765604/

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New Sonnet up at The Amethyst Review

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Another one of my theological sonnets—
[Say prayer’s correctly rubbing God’s back]—has been published by The Amethyst Review.

This one explores the human desire to get a signal out—to be heard and responded to by the numinous. Somehow appropriate for our current reality of social distancing.

Oddly enough, the inspiration for this poem came from a conversation with a student (as many do): something relatively psychotic about a rabbit’s foot. This is what it turned into. I think she would be pleased.

A Happy Poem Published in Solstice


In general, I am happy when any of my poems find publication. But some bring me more joy than others.

This is one of those times.

My poem “an open letter to my mixed little “Sisters Who Kept Their Naturals”” was just published in Solstice, and my heart is full.

While the connection and indebtedness to Gwendolyn Brook’s “To Those of My Sisters Who Keep Their Naturals” should be apparent, as with many of the poems in my “open letter” cycle, this piece has a intended audience and specific muses.

They know who they are, what their strength means to me, and how proud I am to be their big brother (multiple puns intended).

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Selected for MassPoetry "Poem of the Moment“ Feature

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My poem “self evident” has been selected by MassPoetry as a “Poem of the Moment.”

This honor means that my poem will be displayed on the Mass Poetry homepage for one week, be part of the Mass Poetry newsletter sent to 5000+ subscribers, and live in the Poem of the Moment archives.

And scores of English, humanities, and social studies teachers are going to suddenly feel very guilty, and (hopefully) reassess their white supremacist pedagogy.

Strong language you say?

If your lesson(s) specifically “other” your students because of their race, if the assignment is only natural and comfortable for white children, what would you call it?

New Poem in Spiritus

“The Third Renunciation”—one of my theological sonnets—was published in the latest issue of Spiritus (20.1).

It takes its title from Mary Margaret Funk's discussion of the 4th century monk John Cassian's three-fold denials in order to follow a path of spirituality:

First, we must renounce our former way of life and move closer to our heart’s desire, toward the interior life. Second, we must do the inner work (of asceticism) by renouncing our mindless thoughts.…Third, and finally, we must renounce our own images of God so that we can enter into contemplation of God as God" (Thoughts Matter, 9).

It is also the ‘title track’ of a book of poems I am shopping for publication (so if you like this one, and know anyone who wants to publish a bunch more like it, hit me up).

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Three Poems in Poemeleon

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Poemeleon has accepted three of my poems for their TRUTH/Y Issue:

 

  • “an open letter to the school resource officer who almost shot me in my class” ~ reprinted from Gravitas and Teaching While Black


  • "an open letter to the poetry editor of [name withheld on advice from counsel]” ~ a true (enough) story


  • "…and who is my neighbor?" ~ the “Parable of the Good Samaritan” retold for our #movement times.

Lessons from the Underside of Social Media: "anatomy of an internet troll"

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Recently I became a teacher forced to move his lessons to an online format. I'll only focus on one of the myriad existential crises this has caused.

I now spend a stupid amount of time on the interwebs where, once again, I forgot to shut off my brain. I made the mistake of paying attention, doing deep dives, and reading the comments. Never read the comments. However, this time reminded me of a poem I wrote when similarly disenchanted (and a bit disgusted) with how some conduct themselves from behind the anonymity of screens. It gave me...something new to think about.

This is a true story. Completely true.

Maybe I should send him a copy.

anatomy of an internet troll

you chose five photos to introduce yourself.

two are semi-automatic rifles. in another, a pregnant blonde
wraps an arm around your waist, holds the back of her left hand
to the camera. light winces from diamond to the “meninist”
embossed on your ripped t-shirt. the next cradles your son, newly minted
and in his mother’s arms (it’s four months later. your ring finger remains empty).
in the last, you’re bare-chested and finger gunning the camera, head cocked
to display the faux-mullet and horseshoe mustache that screams, “i actually enjoy
the taste of PBR.” this should have been enough. but i have to know more.

fourteen public photos cover your wall: guns on the kitchen table.
guns riding shotgun in your blue truck. you holding an antique pistol.
your infant son holding your middle finger. your not-yet-fiancé
uncomfortably holding a bolt action. an ill-attended baby shower.
you arching the sky above your blue truck with a flame-thrower—
a tiny American flag on the dashboard. an empty water park.
a dirt bike. two pre-pregnancy date photos. two pictures of the blue truck
you’ll own once you “scrape together the money to have it repaired.”
a cartoon of a priest with his pants down, his wrinkled pink gristle
on the forehead of a child. i click tabs, scroll, and try to understand.

your education stopped at the eleventh grade. you have no ‘Friends’
of color— at least none who will accept you on social media.
one of your white “bros” posted a meme about Black dicks
and white chicks. you smiley face emoji in reply,
but aren’t a racist because the only TV show you ‘Like’
is The Boondocks. no favorite books are listed. your self-assessments
are poignant and many (the use of apostrophes escapes you.
commas are liberally employed like bacon bits on a wilted hotel salad).
you can’t hold down a job because of “drama” in your past, “struggle”
that has not made you stronger. every day you sit in front of the computer
and play video games, “especially in the winter.” you ride your dirt bike,
every day, because you spent $200 on its parts. you enjoy the beach
and every “event that involves drinking,” but never drugs because
you’ve learned that lesson. you believe an “eye for an eye is fair,”
and will blast your music next to me because you wish for me to listen
(you need for me to listen). you feel you are a better person now. and unique.
and humble. and “more intelligent than most.” you describe yourself as
“a human being from the planet earth.” and i nod. and weep.


~ MEH

Two Poems in Show Us Your Papers (Anthology)-- Currently in Pre-Sale

Two of my poems will appear in the upcoming anthology Show Us Your Papers:

“legacy” ~ on emails containing last wills and testaments

and

“we all have to make sacrifices” ~ on racial microaggressions against the people least likely to shoot up a public school.

From the Introduction of the anthology:

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Show Us Your Papers speaks to a crisis of identity and belonging, to an increasing sense of vulnerability amid rapid changes in the USA. While corporations wait to assign us a number, here are 81 poets who demand full identities, richer than those allowed by documents of every sort. Here are poems of immigration and concentration camps, of refugees and wills, marriage and divorce, of lost correspondence and found parents, of identity theft and medical charts. In an era where the databases multiply, where politicians and tech companies sort us into endless categories, identifying documents serve as thumbtacks. They freeze the dancing, lurching, rising and falling experience of our lives. The disconnect between our documents and our identities is inherent, reductive, frustrating, and, too often, dangerous. Yet we cannot live without them. In this anthology 81 poets offer a richer sense of our lives and histories—richer than any “official paper” allows. These lyric and narrative forms demand that readers recognize our full identities: personal, familial, national, and historical…

Introducing The WEIGHT Journal

Some English teacher friends and I have started a litmag for high school students (9th -12th grade) called The WEIGHT Journal.

 

It has been widely circulated on social media that Shakespeare likely composed Macbeth, Antony and Cleopatra, and King Lear in the midst of the Black Death. Usually this factoid is shared as a challenge for writers to continue producing work in the midst of COVID-19 pandemic. No pressure.

Taking its title from the ending of Lear, The WEIGHT is a literary blog for high school students who may similarly find themselves in need of a creative outlet. Students with something heavy to get off their chest, and those bored out of their minds at home.

​We welcome all sorts of creative writing: poetry, flash fiction, short fiction, creative non-fiction, hybrid, and whatever else you have.

“The weight of this sad time we must obey,
Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say."
― William Shakespeare, King Lear

Submission guidelines:

We're looking for writing that has something honest to say. Something that releases the WEIGHT/WAIT. That's it. No topic is off-limits. This is not about being "school appropriate."

  • We are always accepting new submissions from 9-12 grade students (homeschoolers are welcome).

  • We are publishing on a rolling basis (as we read, review, and accept new material, goes up).

  • Please submit works not previously published elsewhere (your personal website/blog/social media do NOT count).

  • Please include a short bio (100 words max) about yourself, including things like where you are, what you do, any past publications, hope and dreams, glass half full/empty.

​Poetry: 1-3 poems, up to 6 pages of poetry

Flash Fiction: 1-2 pieces, up to 500 words each

Short Fiction: 1 piece at a time, max 2000 words

Creative Nonfiction: 1 piece at a time, max 2000 words

Something you can’t even classify: 1 piece 1 at a time, max 2000 words

​Email your submissions as a doc., docx., or pdf. attachment (not in the body of an email) to theweightjournal@gmail.com

[Forthcoming] Two More Sonnet-Like Poems Will Appear in The Amethyst Review

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Continuing my heretical (?) take on “unholy sonnets,”

[Say gravity is grace enough for god-]

and

[Say prayer’s correctly rubbing God’s back]

will be joining my other poems in The Amethyst Review: the former in April, the latter in May.