we’re not supposed to say it
but, when you’re damaged
you don’t get to be
undamaged
scar tissue
is weaker
than intact skin
sometimes though
life is stronger
than injury
© 2015-2022 Brian Brown-Cashdollar
Month: March 2022
Levi’s 501
as a young man
I thought
button-fly
more authentic
than zipper
I believed
divinity,
purity,
real-life
were found
in struggle
really?
I mean come on
what the ever loving fuck
; )
Burmese Girl on Richmond
long slender legs
close in on faux heaven
what boys wouldn’t give
to get there
what girls wouldn’t give
to be there
promise of a new land
promise of new love
mama’s lessons from Mae La
don’t translate to America
refugee camps are for waiting
Buffalo is for living
© 2013-2022 Brian Brown-Cashdollar
Liberation Study
I’m proud of this piece. More specifically, I’m proud of the patience to finally wait it out. For many years, I didn’t understand what it was about, and finally after 30 years when I did, the language felt forced and it still didn’t capture what I was looking for. When I caught our reflection in the bus window, I knew it was done.
Although 30+ years does has a price. The political discourse and cosmology feels dated, limiting it’s relevance. With that said, I still think it still has value.
Liberation Study
charcoals and sketchbook on my lap
on the bus a la universidad
we pass her out back
before the afternoon rains
a cross of weathered board and nails
suspending line and laundry above hard-packed dust
clothespins braced between her fingers and teeth
struggling against billowing sheets
arms raised overhead gathering bedding
gust, snap — la fe
gust, snap — la dignidad
gust, snap — la lucha
mi compañera next to me
struggle, why do we push struggle
I don’t know
why do they always sell faith
setting down my stick
I rub the tips of my blackened fingers
catching our reflection, I laugh
I guess we’re left with dignity
then the wind shifts
through her loose strands of pelo and floral frock
gust, snap
praising, surrendering
or hanging wash
© 1989-2022 Brian Brown-Cashdollar
b-kwik
b-kwik
spikes click across Imperial tile
running through b-kwik
sweaty hair
football gear
tore-up turf trailing behind
grabbing milk
grabbing bread
priced for convenience
priced
for the working class
sometimes at checkout
a snuck treat
dad waits in the car
window down
KB on the radio
in the strip plaza
sited to block competition
since the Super Duper exploded
under suspicious circumstances
bricks blown for blocks on Mother’s Day
as the family business succumbed to market forces
we head home with what we need
oblivious to the desperation
that drove a son to arson
when he finally had to admit
there was no longer space
for a six aisle grocery
© 2018-19 Brian Brown-Cashdollar
Sue Radziwon
Sue Radziwon
I started writing
because of
Sue Radziwon
I couldn’t say
I loved the way
your whole body laughed
collapsing to the floor
shrouding your face
in chestnut hair
I started writing
because of
Sue Radziwon
I didn’t know
how to say sorry —
losing your dad
so young
I started writing
because of
Sue Radziwon
to find a voice
a place, a purpose
No.
I started writing
because
it was the best
I could do
© 2019-2022 Brian Brown-Cashdollar
Alchemy
Alchemy
The Art of Wealth Creation
I close the book
eight years for this…
I’ve studied the formulas
the recipes, the maps
they just don’t survive the outside
Inputs.
roads,
raw materials,
access to capital,
markets and,
labor
no mention of soil or precipitation
no value assigned to caregiving or societal cohesion
Centre.
NY 400
from Maple I round the on-ramp
I see alchemy in action
on the petroleum tarmac of the centre–periphery expressway
to the shoulder dragged from the path of oncoming traffic
mammalian beasts struck down by passers-by
flesh, fur, blood
pressed,
ground,
into the road
red
to brown
to gold
here on the municipal,
the micro — level
the immutable laws of economics are reversed
capital-flows and resources spread outward to outlying communities
where wealth can be properly cared-for and nurtured
Periphery.
roads always make me remember
paralleling the Inga-Shaba transmission route
always the passenger never the driver
here, the natural laws of commerce were observed
sealed high-voltage lines protected
barbed wire and cameras from the Inga dams to the Kulwezi mines
the entire 11 hundred mile stretch
three days if we’re lucky, but we always planned for five
from the headwaters carried along roads fresh cut from wilderness
the soil cap bleeds out in the first rains after tree fall
the rest is plundered more methodically:
burning,
mining,
logging,
tv, and,
cultivation
Zairians, now Congolese
attempt to steal the electricity they will finance for decades to come
leaving the occasional charred or shot body scattered along the road side
a temporary biological testament
to desperation, lawlessness, and economic barbarism
whether pushed in front of traffic by the spread of unregulated sprawl
or fried or executed by the chicanery of global trade and crony capitalism
victims are seen as perpetrators or pests
I feed into the I-90 with other commuters
merging traffic, sipping coffee
and too many fuckers playing with phones
the commerce of it all
Output.
books always tell the tale
although often not the one we were hoping for
those expert in the secrets of the Emerald Tablet
believe their practice to be a clear path to riches and economic development
whether transforming lead into gold
or trusting in extraction and export-oriented production
whether their faith lies in Hermeticism or competitive advantage
makes no difference
the poor will be poorer
the rich will get richer
with the polite-society cover of formulas, policies and structural adjustments
from Congo to the U.S. from the Kisangani-Buta Road to the 400
the centre-periphery model performs as desired
although it seems more gas-lighting than science
the lifeblood of peoples, the lifeblood of nations, drained
the destitute to the prosperous
we know who writes history
so there’s no book for that
flowing over asphalt
ground into the pavement
from red
to brown
to gold
© 2003-2022 Brian Brown-Cashdollar