Selections from while they sleep (under bed is another country)

oh to be white, america
oh to be white america
ode to being white: america:
ode to being white america
or to be white in america
or to be white america
or to be america,



[1] “puerto rico puerto riiiico
es mi tierra natal
no la cambio por ninguna
aunque me paguen un capital”




how far will we go to believe we will save everyone with a box of rice and beans?[2] should i forgive myself for the cruelty i showed when i was most beaten down, clawing up the walls of my heart with an icepick? i saw over an arm that reached down to me from the edges of my chest, saw your face, a sudden burst of hot water in the winter air. the pick pierced your hand and the pick was my hand, a long nail reaching out of my flesh into yours until you were wounded. i did that because you are white and i had been living at the bottom of this heart eating the ashes of my ancestors and the children i bore in silence. i promised them a whispered vengeance. you’d been living in the outside world, seeing films, laughing, being overworked, living, paying bills.

how could i just move on?

i am sorry for the things i said when i was broken that autumn when so many of us were killed and cremated. i’m sorry i said you didn’t care, spit in the cactus, and broken a plate against my chest when you weren’t looking. i’m sorry i was afraid to burn a flag because i had nowhere to return. instead i cut across our sheets, planting red seeds in the cupboards.



[2] arroz con pollo




she arrived three years ago
she is now married to a white man
she lives in allentown

he arrived five days ago
he is now living with a cousin
he is still looking for work

she arrived one year ago
she got a job at target
she takes pictures on the train
and wears long johns

they arrived a month ago
they broke up last week

they are depressed
they can’t remember when they arrived
they keep threatening to move back
i can live without electricity
i’ve done it before[3]



[3] repartiendo pastillas como chicles




not a single blue tarp in heaven[4]


[4] pero sobran cielos plásticos en el paraíso


It’s like you’ve always been here...

decolonize the tongue

“so whitey likes my language? ha. cute. gonna have to read these books upside down & backwards if you wanna pass me up.”

White City

Most of our seen world has been colonized. While we work to regain it, we protect the unseen from encroachment, from being stolen and mangled.