“I love most anarchists
I hate most poetry
and yet herein I present you with poetry
that disparages anarchists.”

Homophobe
years ago in high school
I was no anarchist.
I thought laws could solve the problems of oppression
and I thought rules should curtail improper behavior.

we formed the gay-straight alliance
to let everyone know that homophobia was going to stop.

one day a teacher taught us that fanny packs were for fags
and I used to respect that teacher
but I told him I didn’t appreciate gay jokes.
three other members of the gay-straight alliance
who were in the class with me
tried to turn invisible.

he told me that it wasn’t serious.

I told him the law against queer discrimination
in the publics schools of our county.

his eyebrows dropped in anger
his old broken hands wrung themselves
“if you want someone to understand you
or comply, the worst possible way is
to quote law at them, to tell them
what they can and cannot do.”

I was silent and self-righteous at the time
but he was right about law.

I still don’t appreciate gay jokes.

Speciesist
there was a campfire in the woods, of course
and we soberly plotted authority’s demise.

I don’t know who it was who suggested that
every fast food joint should burn.

the woodfire crackled with joy and
wise young heads nodded.

I was old at 21 -
I suggested that ideally one would be prepared
to feed the family of the displaced cashiers
and fry cooks
until they found other jobs.

the woodfire sputtered its disdain and silence
or disbelief gathered in the faces around me.

they taught me that concern for humanity
is tantamount to treason
and for voicing this opinion
I was speciesist.

Audist
she was on the seat of the bike
while I worked the pedals
and this is probably as close as
I will ever come to telling her how
amazing she was and is.

playing the spoons three-four to
my concertina on the street
or reading Sherman Alexie aloud
before we fell asleep.

but there she was on the seat of the bike,
not 100lbs but with more anti-fascist brawls
in her than me, she was brass knuckles and
brown fists.

“I saw this sign,” I began, and asked her
what audism was.
she didn’t know, but conjectured it meant
discrimination against the hearing impaired.
surely, I argued, that was covered under ableism.

“ah!” she laughed, “are you claiming that
those who can’t hear are differently abled?
let me off this bike, you audist!”

and so we collapsed into the grass and laughed
and laughed.