Lisa Ray Instagram - Look at me says the world with a harlequin grin. A man is carrying his shards on tv for dumbstruck viewers who forgot to change the batteries of the remote. On another screen Mara resurrects in calligraphic roars a cauldron of violence and pelting chants, as a river of tongues- all pink, unfurled and un-iridescent hued- bay for the Dream House. We watch a covenant collapsing under its awnings like cardboard dreams in the thousands. And here, in another mandala of grief, we are synthesizing green as we lay the keywords on a quiet side street like elephant bones. Ducking, dodging, adapting whatever comes next- What’s after ‘safe distancing’? And how’s a ‘brave new world’ to march when there’s not enough oars enough tablecloth to hide your children, enough gold and grain for every hand to sow. On this carnal expedition there’s not enough. Not enough for every body, it seems. Look at us, look at us as we make flags of the weak bind our knuckles with washclothes our knees with toilet paper. Illicit citizens are chewing up our bricks they call from under buckets and masks and your children’s cookies too. Meanwhile a satellite confirms the fire is coming Kalki is coming. Even a single cell can smell it. Come, they call- Take this pebble throw it into the eyes of the Goddess. See we are wrapping her in carnival clothes making offerings of candyfloss and peanuts. It’s the only way to pray. It’s the hovercraft that will save us. See us, see us They call with holographic grins. -Lisaraniray @protestpoet Image: @studio_medium
Look at me says the world with a harlequin grin. A man is carrying his shards on tv for dumbstruck viewers who forgot to change the batteries of the remote. On another screen Mara resurrects in calligraphic roars a cauldron of violence and pelting chants, as a river of tongues- all pink, unfurled and un-iridescent hued- bay for the Dream House. We watch a covenant collapsing under its awnings like cardboard dreams in the thousands. And here, in another mandala of grief, we are synthesizing green as we lay the keywords on a quiet side street like elephant bones. Ducking, dodging, adapting whatever comes next- What’s after ‘safe distancing’? And how’s a ‘brave new world’ to march when there’s not enough oars enough tablecloth to hide your children, enough gold and grain for every hand to sow. On this carnal expedition there’s not enough. Not enough for every body, it seems. Look at us, look at us as we make flags of the weak bind our knuckles with washclothes our knees with toilet paper. Illicit citizens are chewing up our bricks they call from under buckets and masks and your children’s cookies too. Meanwhile a satellite confirms the fire is coming Kalki is coming. Even a single cell can smell it. Come, they call- Take this pebble throw it into the eyes of the Goddess. See we are wrapping her in carnival clothes making offerings of candyfloss and peanuts. It’s the only way to pray. It’s the hovercraft that will save us. See us, see us They call with holographic grins. -Lisaraniray @protestpoet Image: @studio_medium
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