Poem of the Week: Kenji C. Liu

So, that you are always sir, dear sir

for the 43 Ayotzinapa normalistas and all disappeared

I.

Ask me again why I am here

with this pine, this wild oyamel,

their great succulence of reason

You, machine lyric

and State, every state,

maker of rules and so outside them

You, hard blue evenings

with mass emergencies buried

inside them, like me

Your answers endlessly insufficient-

the mayor and his wife, smiling

waving pinkies, waving dollar bills

Sweet water pouring

into the mind of a cardboard box

The verification of empty

II.

Dear sir, the angle of civilization

the angle of your civilization is too steep

I am speaking certain words and not others

Light rises along my spine

This mountain is a white bone

This republic, a one-note instrument

The president-like a president-deciding

is this one as human?

A forest of marigolds between our knees

"Mexicanos, ¿Cuando piensas arder?

¿Cuando el desaparecido salga de tu casa?"

Our altars coated with sugar

no place outside the economy of war

When the pan is all gone we will take leave

a parade of ripples with a snake's purpose

This last remittance will cover the cost

if not I will send more, tied to an eagle

The earth is filled with exceptions-

43, a number, so many numbers

I feel around my dark hold

in search of light switch and decomposition

"Ayotzinapa vive

el estado ha muerto"

Bring back the fire

In the bow of our ship, an entrance

a bullet

  

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Used with permission.

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Kenji C. Liu is a 1.5-generation immigrant from New Jersey. His writing appears or is forthcoming in The Los Angeles Review, Asian American Literary Review, The Rumpus, Barrow Street Journal, CURA, RHINO, and the anthologies Dismantle (Thread Makes Blanket Press) and Orangelandia (Inlandia Institute). A recipient of fellowships from VONA/Voices, Djerassi Resident Artist Program, and the Community of Writers at SV, he holds an MA in Cultural Anthropology and Social Transformation. He lives in Los Angeles, where he is a graphic designer. He served on the Board of Directors for Kearny Street Workshop from 2011 to 2012. www.kenjiliu.com

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Poem of the Week: Kenji Liu

         

Elegy for Kimani Gray  

16 Years Old 

Sharp tenure of boots in this callow country
     grown from open skulls. A raw harvest of bullet casings

arranged in a perfect ring around you,

     ruthless departure gate from your too-short life.

Old bricks laid on mud, on ancient bones.

     A crooked wall that slithers in all directions, into all of us.

In the subway station, your hymnal of hail,
     audible through the sagging window pane, and

the hushed light of a penny keeping to itself,
     away from the wicked maledictions of trigger fingers.

This ending is the middle, halfway between genesis
     and the great throwing open of all our secretive vaults.

Bullet one, entitled to flesh and the sin of pride.

      Two more in thrall to the scent of a black body. With orders

from their gods, they plow your emptied land.

     Still more, cloaked against simple pleas of muscle and bone.

The last bullet, addicted to death's sharp edges,

      cracks your final seal. Your murder, a cage we have seen before.

No more. Hold every lucid moment close, so that
     its delicate turbulence does not escape your accounting.

Those who have mispledged to protect will never
     own this moment. It is yours alone, whether they pierce

mesh with metal or lies. You are not theirs.
     only yours alone. Your bright eyes open again and again,

fireflies in their factory of dark rituals. Traveling

      the undiscovered country, you are : finally : every last breath.  

 

-Kenji Liu   

Used by permission.

Kenji Liu  (www.kenjiliu.com) is a 1.5-generation immigrant from New Jersey. A Pushcart Prize nominee and first runner-up finalist for the Poets & Writers 2013 California Writers Exchange Award, his writing has appeared in numerous journals, including RHINO Poetry, Generations, Eye to the Telescope, Ozone Park Journal, Kweli Journal, Doveglion Press, Best American Poetry's blog, Kartika Review, Lantern Review, and others. His poetry chapbook You Left Without Your Shoes was nominated for a 2009 California Book Award. A three-time VONA alum and recipient of residencies at Djerassi and Blue Mountain Center, he is working on a full-length poetry book. He lives in California.

 

Please feel free to forward Split This Rock Poem of the Week widely. We just ask you to include all of the information in this email, including this request. Thanks!

If you are interested in reading past poems of the week, feel free to visit the blog archive.