I’m working on a collection of poems investigating hate, fear, and loathing:
Under the banner of peace and brotherhood,
my body to be scattered in bits in the noisy,
sudden, non-peaceful tearing of flesh.
My body a weapon against cousinhood.
I have many cousins –
one that smokes by the Ganges and really hates blood.
one that used to be stupid but now rules the world.
one devilish one – very quiet but very sharp sword.
The one that vexes me is not my cousin.
The fuck is my brother. Bastard.