José Olivarez

I Walk Into Every Room and Yell Where the Mexicans At

i know we exist because of what we make. my dad works at a steel mill. he worked at a steel mill my whole life. at the party, the liberal white woman tells me she voted for hillary & wishes bernie won the nomination. i stare in the mirror if i get too lonely. thirsty to see myself i once walked into the lake until i almost drowned. the white woman at the party who might be liberal but might have voted for trump smiles when she tells me how lucky i am. how many automotive components do you think my dad has made. you might drive a car that goes and stops because of something my dad makes. when i watch the news i hear my name, but never see my face. every other commercial is for taco bell. all my people fold into a $2 crunchwrap supreme. the white woman means lucky to be here and not mexico. my dad sings por tu maldito amor & i’m sure he sings to america. y yo caí en tu trampa ilusionado. the white woman at the party who may or may not have voted for trump tells me she doesn’t meet too many mexicans in this part of new york city. my mouth makes an oh, but i don’t make a sound. a waiter pushes his brown self through the kitchen door carrying hors d’oeuvres. a song escapes through the swinging door. selena sings pero ay como me duele & the good white woman waits for me to thank her.  

James Baldwin

Untitled

Lord,
          when you send the rain,
          think about it, please,
          a little?
  Do
          not get carried away
          by the sound of falling water,
          the marvelous light
          on the falling water.
    I
          am beneath that water.
          It falls with great force
          and the light
Blinds
          me to the light.

Precious Okoyomon

New seasons

my mother got married for a greencard
 I mean we’re living thru some shit
big fat pussy clouds / violent season
my mouth is full of colonial regret
 I mean i am my mother’s  daughter
In the streets i hunger for my suffering
gestures of the broken black back
 do i ever get tired of punishing myself > nah son
all these bitches is my sons
deified oppression
clenched teeth
I’m leaking everywhere
aint this shit sexy
this is what my mother immigrated for
assimilation accreditation
this is a dying season lonely vibrations
under the glare of this dimly lit bathroom
snorting coke with this white boi
off this now defunct toilet
 I mean my ancestors seem confused
I mean this is the caucasian dream
I am big and round and ready
I mean my lil dark body is twitching / i must be high right now
I am unliving my mother
becoming the body
fed up with my making
    violent symmetry / easy intensity
My golden body
I address my prayer to myself
A body on it’s  knees
i’m living in fear / without memory  /betraying my body /  unearthing light
begin erasure
nothing to write home about

Precious Okoyomon

from AJEBOTA

I’m feeling very tired and frustrated about the idea of fixing my life.
I am not lonely because you are here.
You can feel bad about your life with me.
We can feel bad about our lives together.
We can feel mixed emotions.
Like a tossed salad.
Together we can be a tossed salad without croutons / no tomatoes / no onions / no cheese.
Together we can be an unsatisfying salad.