Sunday, April 25, 2010

Brandon Shimoda


I, with a slight injury, was human
And you were human too
People now dressed in top fashion with long skirts
Are human
And people buried with no one to look after them
Are human too

Grandchildren, mind you
Sitting, reading
Correcting the manipulations
For example I am not your rightful granddaughter
With good legs describing perfection in fire
Racing over the black roof as a gray tree swinging a stunted hick may
be a wind-flattened hammer of land, a giant steadying for the worst

Purple hair on a brown head. The whitest
Gotten away with
Yellow head
Weighed by strenuous floss. A pink body walking the shoulder of a busy road
To meet the blister she is giving herself to
Hands clutching a tiny trophy, and yet
When is the pink body going to stop stuttering and care?
Living human beings twenty-seven years ago who were no better than rags

Shimoda is a fleshpot of inferior rank is the first line of a poem
that bears the imprint of lopsided children raised in exactly that
manner of irresponsibility
And that is that family
Clad in long skirts, regardless of gender
With a hand on the fluttering water is a gorgeous cheek again also

But I am different. I am not your rightful grandson
Hanging from blood thousand trees
Language in its infancy to an infant mind
Neither a familiar party
Nor one of earth’s many wondrous accessories
Struggled up
And over a severely arched bridge
Startled by the majesty of trees along the coast
Accretion of earth in spots, accounting for the isolationist aspect of
trees bunched in mounds

There are indigenous voices resounding in a half-digested ear
Waiting for the bellow to smoothly pinch
The gamboling children
And for all I have done I am done with you
How many times can this be said he said
So he says point blank
It is your future or mine. Either leave me conjoin me or detonate


Brandon Shimoda was born on the west coast of North America. His collaborations, drawings and writings have appeared in print, online, on vinyl and on walls ... and most recently in Lake M: Book One (Corollary Press) and The Bowling, with Sommer Browning (Greying Ghost Press). He currently lives on the west coast of North America.