The Air Is Full Of Ghosts
the air is full of ghosts
we suck them in when we breathe
we exhale them when we cough up the remains
of bloodstained handkerchief memorials
they nourish their young
in the palms of our hands
in the spaced out world of synapse electrical blast furnace trig
they wont let us count them, you know, take a census
they play with us under the covers
we, in our burrows and dens of imaginary safety
just sanctified ghosts imprisoned in skin
like crustaceans hurting as we move
looking up at those who make shadows across our eyes
as they swoop
but ghosts, man, they are stoned
they are free
to walk through the walls of the tiny human conscious
they speak like scientists, swim in hemoglobin
dissolve into each other when they are in love
they dance, unworriedlike
me, yeah, when I play music, I play it for my fans
the ghosts
El Inmigrante
why don’t you take a picture, it might last longer …
mi abuelo came up here every summer
to break his back for your forbidden fruit
that’s right, he could lift a basket of tomatoes
over his head with one hand
the muscles in his shoulders were so massive
that mi abuela had to shampoo his hair for him
he’s dead now, got killed defending a friend in the field
it’s a war here brothers and sisters
there are no civilians, only soldiers
only bodies, one by one passing away
among accusation that we have our eye on a bigger prize
or that we enjoy coming up being treated like parasites
by those who suffer much like us
you know, we can make our own bread
raise our own corn
and we can smile a big smile to everyone we meet
how has this field of fruit become a field of battle
when did the protectors become the oppressors
we are not the enemy
we do not offend, or commission work to foreign slavers
we neither evict nor perpetrate homelessness
so put that flashlight down, señor
the only thing illegal here is your attitude
and your activity toward your fellow human beings
be careful where you point that weapon
lest the target that you aim for
be your own reflection
Ein Sof
half of you is all of you
the blind can see your light
as the hand contemplates the eye
as the stone contemplates the sea
through studies and practice
the scientist and the priest
seek to invoke your love and attention
you breath yourself
to converse within your own mind
the numberless number
of you that we are
the many who form one
forever approaching
© Carrie Magness Radna: IMG_9676[1]