Signal Hill

If you were to sit atop the hill during sunset,
you could watch the thousands of homes and cars
within Eastside
begin to turn on their lights.

((This is the spectacle of that neighborhood
waking up to challenge
the impermanence
of things like sunlight
and safety))

Signal Hill was run over in 1823
by oil rigs that pumped metal
deep into the ground
to make money
after all the natives had been silenced.

((The oil rigs covered the Hill as if the earth were hissing
- its hair raised in defense))

The Hill was then pumping,
groaning
and breathing
like a vitriolic beast
crouched
against the rest of the landscape.

This, was something beautiful.

(dear) run-away

don't you know,
im yours

(dear) run-away

see the world,


you help my eyes open
you help my eyes close.

in the process of making jewelry...

I’m stripping an old clock
down to the gears
I want to see how it works
I want to see how it wont anymore

tearing out legendary rules
I wonder if I am breaking its heart
or just setting it free

You.

fill me
like a drink its cup,

short prayer

a wooden Rosary
woven between my fingers
is a pistol
if I know how to hold it right.
and Tolerance is a wrecking ball
poised inside the heads of those
who actively support fake walls
in anticipation of tearing them down.
and Need is now a blind child
who has learned to see
with his hands
instead of his core.
and Righteousness -
a privilege.

9

on my head, the work of boars
gnashing
i don’t get much company

understand,
the wire demanded a surge
the feral need grew within
stories fed into the night

when you met me
I was wild and broken,
now I am wild and free

Tear away at what you’ve been taught
The clothes on your back
The words in your mouth

Learn from the absence of teachings
The skin on your bones
The air in your chest

Tear on,
Tear on.