3 Poems by James 🌵



When that Coyote Made of Triangles gets
at you all tough-like, when you’re on acid,
tell him you know those triangles were
at the time— y’know the bank font, they use

it on cheques so you can’t draw a line on a one
to for example turn it into seven? — like that
font, or anyway when in the 90s, when
it was shorthand for hacker stuff, or like

they’d use it on a poster about the internet
that you’d see in a middle school. Early 90s.
That’s what your triangles are like. You’re
like Wired but you live in the Mojave Desert.


I’m thinking of tanking the economy. I think we need to
invent sexbots. I’ve thought it through: When it’s our turn,
we shall make no excuses for the Terror. I think—

Do you know what I had achieved when I was your age?
They pay for your schooling. You’d be your own boss—
Not David Brooks— be your own boss— Avocado toast?

I’m still thinking about avocado toast. I can’t think about
court reporter jobs starting at $21/hr. I’ve got two kids.
They don’t exist yet but I think about them a lot.


Oh, yes,
I too pray . . . .
but not to “Jesus” . . . .
Nor on the Q’uran, and/or to Zoroaster,

(and although perhaps the Buddha Siddhartha has revealed some important truths, perhaps which science overlooked, But, only because Buddhism is less a religion but more of philosophical system, really. )

My prayers, are not prayers, for they are answered
by HIT-HENS and DAW-INS and yes, even
the little BENS-ILLER, for it is was by these
great Men (though woman scientists exist, too!)
revealed to me with their whole un-holy texts
that there is (probably and in fact almost certainly)
no god damn g-o-d, or what have you. For Lo!
there isn’t solid proof either way
. . . “Yet…”

(With the possible exception of when for a few years beginning allegedly April 2, 1968, an apparition of Mary (Jesus’ mother, according to Christianists, KJU) appeared in Cairo before a small few ten-hundred witnesses and was subject of a small number of dozens of mostly dubious photographs, (not in color).)

Not, amen…
But, HU-Men!

James 🌵 is the commander of the Chicago People’s Army and a member of the SEIU. He is the poetry editor of Protean Magazine, and his work has appeared. The guy lives in Van Nuys, California. Links to his Twitter and Instapoetry