On September 19, 2013, I’m in the lineup to read at the Cat Club, a bar in San Francisco. Jonathan Ferrell has just been murdered by police after surviving a car crash.
here is going on a war there is war on going on here
called him nigger.
called him liar.
hung Clint Eastwood chairs from southern trees.
blue red black
white ninety-nine
one stars and
bars stars and
stripes
invidisible
we may mass the troops amissing Sunday mornings
ammunition stackpiled on a stock of bibles
but just listen to the smalling voice of fearful white people—
i’m telling you:
stand up they are not going to stand for this take this sitting down