An addition to the previous post In the Third Person…please bear with me. It all comes good somewhere down the line, not here, not today…

I have decided to change my pronouns.
No more third person talk for me.
I, me, we, us should suffice
for whatever I have to say.
I have also decided I am a rich white guy.
I still don’t have any money but I have
something more valuable than mere coins.
I have White Privilege.

I am Custer’s Grandson

I am a descendent of Andrew Myrick.
I am a descendent of Andrew Jackson,
George McClellan, Colonel John Chivington, Buffalo Bill Cody…and
all the other white devils.
I stand on their heap.

The heap belongs to me now
and I do not want it. There are too many unhappy
ghosts lurking about, too foul an air emitted.
I didn’t make -> it,  it -> made me,
We belong to each other, unto death.
Our pronouns are we, us and ours,
a brutal fact for my mind to absorb
but then we are a brutal and loving people
capable of anything under the sun and moon.


I am trying to write this poem
but now I’ve had too much wine.


I wrote that last night. I am going to let it stand. This project requires transparency if it is to become a true and brutal confessional poem…