dain saint art and activism for an abundant society

hear my single

city don’t sing

rhythm

and in the silence
i heard my heart beating
and it was loud
and i was alive

these droplets are not mine

part of the book of words

i stared at the storm
through this window
for so long

that i truly believed
glass was wet

karesansui

part of the book of words

i built an elaborate sand castle
with rooms to spare
a moat to protect it
each towering spire
a testament to perfection

and yet, no one lived there
and yet, the rain

i dont know why

i don’t know why
the chemicals that knit
to form the fragrance of that
first blushing mango
take me home in an instant

or why i feel more at ease
in the gentle rocking
of a commuter train
than i do in my home

i don’t know why
the line of your jaw
and the smoke in your eyes
make me knit letters into words

or why i would hang my heart
like a lantern before my doorway
to be bruised by the elements
beating louder there than in my chest

i don’t know why
i hate praise, but crave it
fear love, but need it
need touch, but reject it

or why i can shine
incandescent
yet still view myself
a moth

i don’t know why
i like what i like
want who i want
love who i love

i just know i do
and that is enough

rations

part of the book of words

starving, i was given
the most perfect strawberry
ripe, and generous with juice
whose flavour made me cry
just to taste

and yet
i was still hungry

predator

when i said
i want you
i didn’t smile
so much as
bare my teeth

ethnic

i have made
so many friends
because this country
put our foods
in the same aisle

visible spectrum

the visible spectrum is a mere sliver
the silver on the back of the glass
that reflects our entire existence

but it is still only a sliver

my reds pulse deep bloody heat
the anger of injustice
the passion of existing regardless
and you will never see my infrared
but you will feel it all the same

my violets radiate high spirit light
the knowledge of my history
the compassion of my future
and you will never see my ultraviolet
but it will burn you all the same

my mother knit my black skin from starstuff
in a basement apartment
that had no room for her dreams
(so she placed them in me)

she gave me gemini
the night sky that pulses with
x-ray and gamma and
microwave and potential energy
and said all this can be yours
i gave you eyes to see
but they are not your vision

to think i spent years wearing only black
because they made no dye for
the colours i saw every time
i closed my eyes

my greens spread, earth-driven vines
the love of being alive
the yearning to hold you all
and you will never taste my chlorophyll
but it will feed you all the same

summer vacation

we lived in a moment
the one we just left
the one we just entered
the one about to come

we felt it all
divinity, infinite trinity

what a waste of time it is
waiting for now to be over
as if there was ever anything else
as if you can waste the infinite

is pepsi okay

So to drink, we have Prison
Sugary-sweet and full-flavoured
It's bad for the health but it sure tastes great

Or if you prefer, we have Diet Vengeance
It's not as satisfying as Prison
But you won't mind while
taste is on your lips

but i only asked for Justice
straight from the tap
a taste of remorse
an ounce of regret
a pint of recognition
a glass of restitution
i do not want
to drink your substitutes
only to find
that i am still thirsty

Well I'm sorry, but
If you aren't going order anything
I'm going to have to ask you to leave