{"id":6287,"date":"2021-01-30T11:28:30","date_gmt":"2021-01-30T11:28:30","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/glasfrynproject.org.uk\/w\/?p=6287"},"modified":"2025-05-20T07:49:34","modified_gmt":"2025-05-20T07:49:34","slug":"mk-chavez-three-poems","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/glasfrynproject.org.uk\/w\/6287\/mk-chavez-three-poems\/","title":{"rendered":"MK Chavez: Three Poems"},"content":{"rendered":"

Swamp Thing II<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

To denote as dirty and to cognate is to muddle meaning.<\/p>\n

Once upon a time, mud was sweet heroin.
\nSweet swamp survival. What does it mean to drag
\nsomeone through the mud.<\/p>\n

Swamp, where sometimes slavery sunk to silt.
\nMuddled has been used to describe my identity.<\/p>\n

There are other lesser-known stories
\nsuch as Dr. Samuel Mudd
\nwho treated Abraham Lincoln\u2019s murderer,
\nJohn Wilkes Booth. What he did was considered
\na traitorous act, and eventually, he was convicted.<\/p>\n

Swamp Creatures are soft matter historical sludge.<\/p>\n

Allegations regarded as damaging, typically
\nconcerned with corruption.<\/p>\n

Swampland is rich with worms, frogs, snails
\nand crayfish.<\/p>\n

To mud wallow among cypress and alligators,
\nadapt to brackish and salty waters. To be
\na part of the trembling earth.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Incantation for Future Beings<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It wasn\u2019t the election, the pandemic, or racial violence. We had reached an end. We were consuming<\/p>\n

ourselves whole and then cast from the destroyed building to search for the key.<\/p>\n

We were semi-divine, a type of hybridity, some might say a monstrosity. We were full<\/p>\n

of impulse when we entered the chrysalis.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Key: The terrible thing had already happened<\/p>\n

Key: Every wound had a name<\/p>\n

Key: We looked into the abyss and we were the darkness<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It wasn\u2019t the death, one after the other, one after the other, or the truth of it, or the lie of it.<\/p>\n

We were never alone in the pure and oval place. Some fought the disintegration, some slept.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Key: We were clearwing and golden<\/p>\n

Key: At one time we believed the venom was the medicine<\/p>\n

Key: We are the familiar we have been fearing<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It wasn\u2019t red skies, floods, earthquakes, or the physical impossibility of a breaching shark.<\/p>\n

The mystery was in how milky eyed we had become. How we lost sight of the process,<\/p>\n

unable to see that everything comes to an end and a beginning.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Key: Our\u00a0umbilici\u00a0coiled together into eternity<\/p>\n

Key: The future is our past, our past our future and our future is now.<\/p>\n

Key:\u00a0\u00a0In our finest moment we are ouroboros.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It wasn\u2019t Essayan playing the piano in a destroyed building, the concert of anarchy,<\/p>\n

or the shortages of masks, gloves, and toilet paper. What we found was that we were still ourselves.<\/p>\n

Beyond wisdom and evil. Which is to say, we are tutelary beings, a lotus blooming<\/p>\n

on top of our heads<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Key: The opening of the self is eternal<\/p>\n

Key: The ego slain in the process of reincarnation and our wings wet<\/p>\n

Key: We are forever instar and golden.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It was the uprising. It was the end and it was then beginning.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

We are the vision serpent of our times. We are furious and infernal<\/p>\n

spirits of winding roots and nerves. Look, our hands are red with rebirth.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

We traveled the gateway and waited, found that all we have is time.<\/p>\n

We have been and are becoming the universe.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I Am Here To Query Indices Of What Follows<\/strong><\/p>\n

It could look like someone you know, or it could be a stranger\u2014Jack, It Follows<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Your body followed my body first.<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t know the stories you tell yourself.<\/p>\n

I only know that we didn\u2019t arrive here as ghosts.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Memories are now natural histories.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The day we met<\/p>\n

we looked at each other in the eye<\/p>\n

longer than the average 3.2 seconds.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

How long does it take to forget a face?<\/p>\n

Studies in facial vocabulary say never.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Now we communicate as supernatural entities.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A lure was once an arrangement of feathers<\/p>\n

meant to resemble a bird.<\/p>\n

There was a time you called me a chameleon.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

You had a turtle you named Turtle.<\/p>\n

In its old age, Turtle began biting the toes of women<\/p>\n

who you brought to the apartment.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A lure was once a collective term for a group<\/p>\n

of women. Later you gave Turtle away.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The we of us is dream logic.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The nightmare made it impossible to solve the nightmare.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Sticky with emotional content.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It remains important to note that at some point, we lost control<\/p>\n

of the interrogations<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I\u2019m haunted by frame in which I stare at myself<\/p>\n

while talking into the ether.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Sometimes when I see you, I say,\u00a0oh, hi<\/em><\/p>\n

as if I didn\u2019t just click on a link.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

We watched a horror movie together in our separate homes.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It was an\u00a0It\u00a0<\/em>film.<\/p>\n

You were disappointed. You said,\u00a0It<\/em>\u00a0never arrived.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And yet, there was an end.<\/p>\n

Everyone undid themselves and each other.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Backdrops<\/p>\n

have grown to monstrous proportions.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

MK Chavez is a writer, editor, and educator who splits her time between Portland, Oregon (the occupied territory of the Cowlitz, Clackamas, and Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde) and Oakland, California (occupied territory of the Ohlone people). Her work has appeared in many literary journals, including the Academy of Poets Poem-A-Day series. She is the author of\u00a0Mothermorphosis, Dear Animal, (Nomadic Press),\u00a0<\/em>and several chapbooks including,\u00a0\u00a0A Brief History of the Selfie (Alley Cat Books). Chavez curates the reading series Lyrics & Dirges and is co-director of the Berkeley Poetry Festival, and is guest curator of the reading series at Berkeley Art Museum and Pacific Film Archive. She is an editor at Nomadic Press and poetry editor at Rivet Literary Journal. She has been a visiting instructor at Stanford University, San Francisco State University, and Mills College. She is a recipient of the Alameda County Arts Leadership Award, the PEN Oakland Josephine Miles Award, and fellowships at Hedgebrook, Caldera, CantoMundo, and VONA.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Swamp Thing II   To denote as dirty and to cognate is to muddle meaning. Once upon a time, mud was sweet heroin. Sweet swamp survival. What does it mean to drag someone through the mud. Swamp, where sometimes slavery sunk to silt. Muddled has been used to describe my identity. There are other lesser-known […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":6319,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"footnotes":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false},"categories":[58,12],"tags":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/glasfrynproject.org.uk\/w\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/01\/images-2.jpeg","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p42xiC-1Dp","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/glasfrynproject.org.uk\/w\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6287"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/glasfrynproject.org.uk\/w\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/glasfrynproject.org.uk\/w\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/glasfrynproject.org.uk\/w\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/glasfrynproject.org.uk\/w\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6287"}],"version-history":[{"count":8,"href":"https:\/\/glasfrynproject.org.uk\/w\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6287\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6358,"href":"https:\/\/glasfrynproject.org.uk\/w\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6287\/revisions\/6358"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/glasfrynproject.org.uk\/w\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/6319"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/glasfrynproject.org.uk\/w\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6287"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/glasfrynproject.org.uk\/w\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6287"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/glasfrynproject.org.uk\/w\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6287"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}