do you have

an I love you is the right thing to say here feeling
a no need to say it feeling
a feeling like this will last feeling
a terrible mistake feeling

a late night hassled by drunks feeling
a someone walking behind you feeling
a lifetime of guarded feeling

a they’re following you in the store again feeling
a they’re shocked at how articulate you are feeling
a they are locking their doors when I pass feeling
a they don’t know that sometimes I wanna justify that
feeling

a meal behind the eightball hungry feeling
a this last food stamp won’t cover postage to my Senator feeling

a yacht purchasing feeling
a leveraged buyout feeling

a fucked again by the same two lovers feeling
a tuna sandwich lost in the bedclothes for a whole day feeling
a can’t get out of the bed for the restraints feeling

a Darfur feeling
a Palestine feeling
a Swedish camp massacre feeling

a there it is now death feeling
a stare the cop in the eyes and shoot back numbly feeling
a soldiers in the night again feeling
a that is what a drone sounds like son feeling

a New York state of mind includes sleeping rough near the Triboro feeling
a Boston sneers at me but I bought Boston Strong T-shirts anyway feeling

a Chicago Cubs feeling

a medications aren’t working feeling
a puppy is better at least for tonight feeling
a purchased love is only good for the first two minutes feeling
a whisky you’re the devil and I am anton lavey feeling
a seeds are exploding in the last joint I’ve got and she’s laughing at me feeling
a good god I am disgusting feeling
a good fucking god you turned out to be feeling
a damn myth you got me into mom feeling
a damn myth you turned out to be feeling

do you have
a stretched feeling
a pulled feeling
a yanked feeling
a torn feeling
a bull just shat feeling
a call and response feeling
a response to a call out feeling

do you have
a lazy feeling
a brainwashed feeling
a sheep feeling
a groping toward feeling
perhaps even
a shamed feeling
of your very own

Yet-to-be-fully-imagined
country we all want to live in,

country of peace groves
full of lemon trees, country

where we let
our own blood

into the garden soil
to feed it, where we all sing

in our own tongues in the front yards
and kneel silently in the back yards

under the open sky, seeking
guidance or a little rain; country

yet to be founded,
already rich and storied,

abandoned, rediscovered,
abandoned again and again;

country, not nation, not state;
homeland, not seat of empire.

Country yet to be ours, country
we’ll have to define — a country we’ll all 

agree to defend against the poisons
of borders, flags, anthems, suspicions.

When we come to that country
we’ll look into each other’s eyes

and we’ll know what to name it 
without hearing a single campaign speech.

We’ll know how to run it
without a single task force.

We’ll know how to love it
without a single weapon.

We’ll know we’ve truly settled there
when we look into each other’s eyes

and see a neighbor, a cousin,
or a self, no matter what else we see.