female power

the emptiness you feel as a poet

without a cigarette -

without the silhouette 

of your own hand

and sexy delicious fingers -

without the silhouette of your own hand

and the cigarette burning smoke

(also a silhouette)

between those sexy delicious fingers;

i hate you for choosing him any time you do.

because indeed you are choosing.

there is no disorder of attraction

only law

logical.

just like you thought to ask him up

to have a tea of a fuck 

just like that

to feel your female 

power.

tell me again how suppressed-

tell me again how i have suppressed

my female

power.

tell me again how i need therapy.

tell me again how i should think about

fixing myself, broken 

as we both agree 
i am.

let me show you how to fuck

the brokenness up the ass

man that he is - broken -

not me,

not my 

female 

power.

and let me tell you it never was

it never could be

a thing broken,

a thing erected

and able to break.

my female power

is a round

circle.

break. 

break.

that.

Love: A Revolution

Now that Pluto is bigger than we knew it to be

I love you with another kind of heart -

resilient like water, willingness to expand.

You leave me a longing the size of nine and a half years

and three billion miles. This is how long it took 

the astronauts. I can fit all my dreams of destruction 
in the distance it took us to reach each other. 
Revolution. You split my soul. 

Carry the weight of air, expand in me. It hurts

to love you. To wake waiting for your voice,

to wonder if the planet will disappear without a trace.

Not even a trace of the chaos you stirred in me,

the madness of this desire, more dense

than both our fears combined. Is there even the need

to define a love that cannot be placed

somewhere for safety. Isn't loving already

an agreement with the universe 

not to be saved.

Confession

Again I carry the carcass.

It has been rotting so long
over my shoulder, my head
deep inside the cavity
where this animal's heart
used to beat,
that I haven't even noticed
it is no longer a living thing.

I spent so much time counting
each bone in her ribcage
as I have done over and over
for the past three years
(just to make sure it stayed the same)
I didn't even notice
when she stopped breathing.

I carried on with her skin.
It kept me warm, and I didn't mind
it decomposing over my own
until the moment it ceased
to cover me. No safety
guaranteed in love.

And in death I walked again
the streets we walked together
watching each moment
with the brutal honesty of the light
people say they see
when they come back to life.

I saw the moment I left her there
in the French cafe on Abovyan street
like a reckless driver who won't even stop
to check on the being I hit.

I have no words to say.
I am afraid I killed
the animal that lived in my soul,
as I have killed any animal that dared
to venture deep enough to discover
I had one.

counter-love

Because I love you I have grown used to your moods,

your shadows after midnight in the living room 

and the doubt in your voice when you are reaching 

for truth. I give you all I have and seek more 

for giving, for trust building 

and healing. I know

you need it all. 

Because I love you I speak so my words are not hail

but snow - 

soft and weightless - 

and because I would not dare raise my arms

to place my hands over your shoulders

for comfort

I craft my words into light and harmless touch,

a quiet song for your heart to not break any more

from these themes of loss and lack of hope

in our lives.

Because I love you I adapt to your body the borders

you need for safety, I move between your bones

and shift my skin as needed to not stir 

possibilities for fire, even 

if I want to burn. 

Because I love you I listen to your voice breaking,

make love to silence in between each of your pauses

and hold space to be filled with the story you must tell

again and again. I know you need a witness 

for each time you had to stay silent

in self-preservation. 

Because I love you I stand by in the war you enter, 

each time ask me to leave the battlefield, 

go on your own. I am ready to meet you 

when you arrive at my door, asking not to be judged

for each choice you have had to make

alone.

Because I love you I become the space you need

even in your absence. I become a selfless thought,

guide our collective dream 

beyond the boundaries of material 

and imagination. I know you need 

someone else to believe.

Because I love you I mold desire into work

we must get done. 

I leave behind any poems I write.

(April 2015)

music to explore the wreck

everything up until now was a lie

i come from a country where the dead can vote

i live in a country where the body is halved

the beloved is a placebo effect and there is no real drug
to numb the rush of life pumping through the veins
no matter how uncomfortable the feeling is

death has no feeling at all

alcohol will mess up your immune system

having a fever is the best out of body experience
hallucinatory fortune telling dream ever

but even while i have decided to stop
i continue to the world

and the future is also a lie
for which time was invented

to measure anything is to forget magic

believe only in what you can sense in the moment

reality is pathetic but an i-phone is a selfish device
which will not help any of us escape

an education will not provide the tools to solve injustice
because justice is already paid for

god is not the answer but prayer helps heals holds

dancing is an expression of the souls' pain released

only the body is true
stay with it

now that the sun is here, rise.

sometimes de-colonize feels like 

inter/re-colonize. 

i would rather leave it 

at less than more. 

re-enforce real. silence.
above academic//analytic/ism-ist noise.
how we fetishize ourselves asking
not to be fetishized.
how we agree to comply
with the dominant view
opposing
within the dominant way.
how our resisting is hijaked.
how we are not ourselves
able to be
when limitations make us other.
and mirrors reflect our other-ness
into our center
to be un-digested.
to get tired of keeping our eyes open to this cycle
when sometimes i need sleep too.
let it slip this time.
no-where is safe, take rocks.
to call on the dust of ancestors if needed.
if needed i will die again.

my name is khepa.
i come from khari.
i am a language that no longer exists.

an alternative to a concept does not oppose

I can tolerate a really bad smell, 
a horribly rotten fish, 
40 degree heat, 
being hungry for two days, 
a headache, 
ice water in my shoes,
banging my foot,
a really horrible song,
waiting for the bus
for three hours
in the freezing cold,
head-spinning cramps,
the worst heartbreak,
a dog bite,
a mosquito all night
buzzing in the dark,
waking up early,
going to sleep late,
walking into a puddle
of mud,
a bumpy ride,
paying for water,
being broke,
breaking my arm,
losing my job,
bed-bugs
and mice,
but you are not something
I want to tolerate.
You are someone
I want to respect.