Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Anis Mojgani


this is for the fat girls
this is for the little brothers
this is for the schoolyard wimps
and for the childhood bullies that tormented them
for the former prom queen and for the milk crate ballplayers
for the nighttime cereal eaters
and for the retired elderly Wal-Mart store front door greeters
shake the dust

this is for the benches and the people sitting upon them
for the bus drivers driving a million broken hymns
for the men who have to hold down three jobs simply to hold up their children
for the night schoolers and for the midnight bike riders trying to fly
shake the dust

for the two year olds who cannot be understood
because they speak half English and half God
shake the dust
for the boys with the beautiful sisters
shake the dust
for the girls with the brothers who are going crazy
for those gym class wallflowers
for the 12 year olds afraid of taking public showers
for the kid who’s always late to class
because he forgets the combination to his locker
for the girl who loves somebody else
shake the dust

this is for the hard men who want love but know that it won’t come

for the ones who are forgotten
the ones the amendments do not stand up for
for the ones who are told speak only when you are spoken to
and then are never spoken to
speak every time you stand
so you do not forget yourself
do not let a moment go by that doesn’t remind you
that your heart beats thousands of times a day
and that there are enough gallons of blood to make every one of us an ocean
do not settle for letting these waves settle and for the dust to collect in your veins

this is for the celibate pedophile who keeps on struggling
for the poetry teachers and for the people who go on vacations alone

for the sweat that drips off of Mick Jagger’s singing lips
for the shaking skirt on Tina Turner’s shaking hips
for the heavens and for the hells through which Tina has lived

this is for the tired and for the dreamers
for the families that will never be like the Cleavers
with perfectly made dinners
and sons like Wally and the Beaver
this is for the bigots
for the sexists
for the killers
for the big house pen-sentenced cats becoming redeemers
and for the springtime
that always seems to show up right after the winters

this is for you

make sure that by the time the fisherman returns
you are gone again
because just like the days I burn at both ends
and every time I write every time I open my eyes
I am cutting out parts of myself just to give them to you
so shake the dust
and take me with you when you do
for none of this has ever been for me
all that pushes and pulls
it pushes for you
so grab this world by its clothespins
and shake it out again and again
and hop on top
and take it for a spin
and when you hop off
shake it again
for this is yours

make my words worth it

make this not just another poem that I write

not just another poem
like just another night that sits heavy above us all
walk into it
breath it in
let it crawl though the halls of your arms
like the millions of years of millions of poets
coursing like blood
pumping and pushing
making you live
shaking the dust
so when the world knocks at your door
clutch the knob tightly
and open on up
running forward into its widespread greeting arms
with your hands before you
fingertips trembling
though they may be

why. have I not known about this man sooner.
shake the dust.

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