this king of the jungle
can't find his pride
he's put on a few pounds
kinda empty inside

this tortoise sees him wander
then, their paths collide
tortoise says "you look spent.
hop on the shell for a ride."

this lion leaps on
his heavy paws thud
tortoise struggles from the weight
but the companion feels good
this lion starts in
on his sad, sad life
and these sad, sad days
lost his sad, sad wife
how he was always in pain
scavenged from sun to moon
thinks ill-fortune follows
thinks he'll die of heartbreak soon

tortoise listens so well
feels his pain as her own
tells him she's so sorry
he doesn't have to be alone

but tortoise is thirsty now
she could use a massage
did she pick up a sad sack?
was the companion a mirage?

but now he claims he loves her
wants this shell-ride forever
he appeals to her worth
his flattery turns clever
and his mane gives her warmth
plus, come on, he's a king
perhaps they're perfect together
perhaps he's everything

lion shifts on the ride
says "your shell's way too hard
you walk pretty damn slow
we ain't gotten very far
i wish your claws were painted pink
wish you had straight hair
wish you saw God how i see God
we'd be a pretty good pair.
if only you cared more
of my sad, sad pain
but i don't think you care for me."
just then, it starts to rain.

tortoise raises her umbrella
to shield her new friend
then tortoise trudges on
but she slows from the wind
the rain blinds her sight
her steps slow in the mud
she could really use some help
as the path starts to flood
but lion keeps talking
of his sad, sad life
as tortoise prays for strength
to keep them both alive
"please, bless this union
please, take away his pain
keep my love safe"
as it rains and it rains

and the water rises
and tortoise starts to drown
and lion floats on her shell
can't see they're far from the ground
and tortoise grows quiet
she can't make a sound
she's stopped breathing
perhaps she's dead now

lion starts to get wet
damn tortoise is to blame
the water tickles his paws
and dampens his mane

from the water she rises
spirit separates from shell
she knew she had no damn business
and she knew very well
shouldn't have carried that weight
because the last time she fell,
that other lion was fucking crazy
fell under his lion spell
but she's addicted to filling needs
got no lion to blame
her and the gotdamn Giving Tree
just one in the gotdamn same

as lion sinks into the deep
he's lost the most precious thing
but thank the good Lord
that he's still king.


in the wings

in the dark i stand
hands extended, exalting
exhaling, exhausting the thoughts in
basal ganglia's house.
whisper shouts
and fix my mouth
'round words of gratitude
hands in the air, i whisper in ears
that hear quiet and clear
the ancestors do
they surround me
stay and ground me
reiki man said my angels had found me
he cleared out third chakra
so heart would start pounding
again. the bulb flashes on and i'm in
i'm on

amber glow sends me out from the dark to the house
or the stoop or the room or the middle of June
or whatever the playwright needs them to consume
if God were the playwright
the Obamas He cued
they were on, they were in
now they're out and they're off
in the wings
to be cued
for better things.



older i get
less words i say
easier to pivot
walk the fuck away
or bare this heart
to you
which, dammit, makes me stay
push this cloud
and condensation
out the good gotdamn way
wake up, intuition
on dark days, i pray
pull the curtains
pray for certains
in this brand new day
'cause my mama sees me sad
that makes daddy mad
whole family thinks i'm a bitch
when cloud's my launching pad
i get it, Grandma
80 years, less words you had
young-you was all love, all tries
over time
love rots, and try goes bad
so, deuces, younger-me
stacked loves over tries
cross-hatched believer!
life gone plaid!
older-me real to the realest real
show younger to the door
close that shit like Hodor
as Chance would have it
'we don't do the same drugs no more'



five years
revelatory and embarrassing and endearing to re-read it all.

in this studio in brooklyn heights

profoundly clear that i am this

continuing this, incognito...?


kibibi dillon

my dearest friend,
i love you. from the deepest depths of my heart.
you have taught me so much. and i carry you with me
every single day.
and i will forever.
as will thousands of others.
you certainly still live on.

thank you.



praises! i'm walking.
things i learned while on crutches:

1. we're all capable of so much more.
2. helping those in need gives us purpose and peace.
3. sitting is overrated.
4. every single "can't" finds new life with a "how can i?"
5. with plenty of time to surf the net, i've found the 'missed connections' section of craigslist:

Dear Ex-bf - w4m - 29 (brooklyn)
I saw you places a couple of times lately and then last night I dreamt we were friends. It was lovely but still very hard.


You Were Crying On Madison Ave - m4w - 29 (Flatiron)
You were in a colorful dress on the corner waiting to cross, and crying pretty intensely. I asked if you were alright and needed anything, and I couldn't make out what you said had happened. I would have offered you my umbrella from the rain, if I had one to offer. I hope you're alright and whatever happened passes. Bad things happen to all of us, it's what we take away from it and do afterwards that matters. Good luck to you.



three weeks ago, my right leg slipped into a gap between the platform and the train at Times Square 42nd street in NYC.
it happened so quickly, and i was halfway on the train, so i pulled my leg out, onto the train, and the doors closed. 

the average new yorker is has stared at this sign on the subway on a consistent basis:

...and the average new yorker knows that people don't step in the gap.
i mean, why would they do that?
well, that shit happens.

went to the emergency room, was admitted to the hospital, been on crutches for 3 weeks.
whole nine.
waiting my spot in the emergency purgatory room of doom

fall risk indeed.
it's been almost 3 weeks, and everyone keeps asking when i'll be better.
'when will you be off the crutches?'
'when will you walk again?'
'when will you be miraculously healed and the 7-inch hemotoma melt away into oblivion?'

i don't know.

i mean, when do we ever know when?
if we knew when, we'd spend much more time with loved ones before they exit.
we'd freshen our breath before we bumped into the love of our life.
we'd walk very slowly over a gap and through a subway door.
but if we always know when, what's the point of living?
guess we're constantly being prepared for whenever when happens.

i'm beginning to find peace with it, though ya'll ruin it every time you ask.
so stop asking.
because i don't know.