Day 8.

I spoke to the President today.

We were having a conversation- in which
he was telling me about dreams from his father -

like a sun, transfixed on its one face-
forced to blink once an image fades from the stare-

the case is...

I've looked up to see flights of birds. Soar
passed a stiched sheet of stars and stripes in undulation. My anatomy
stripped from astronomy of a nay-shunned out of the collective-

my skin is spread across the universe
with America shaved from it like a hair follicle
trying to overcome the identity of race versus nationalism

Thursday, August 20, 2009