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No. 5  

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Dylan Amaro-McIntyre



Remembering Radical


I used to be radical


Self proclaimed resurrection
Of Nahuatl stone thrower
Curving Atlatl arc
Of shoulder
Into shatter
Of broken bone


Brought rulers to bow
For their betrayals
Day raider
Team New World
Shade of moonless night
Turned Third World
Day laborer
Beneath First World


I was rhythm of war drums
Dancing songs from desert sands


Obsessed with necromancing
Memories back
Out shallow graves


I kept treaty dates
In my medicine bag
Wore skins
Of ancestors
Flayed naked


Revised antiquated records
With foreign born footnotes
Oral traditions
And prehistoric sepia


I used to be radical


Used to fire off at anyone anytime
For the smallest transgressions
Stayed sixty seconds away
From fucking irate
Weapons kept
At ready
Turning debates fast
Into bone shed ritual


Cynical? Yes
Angry? Always
But somewhere along the way
The picture got muddier
Than Earth born Browns
VS Old World sea faring foreigners
Somewhere lines drawn
Along colors
Became a little too black and white


Cruelty is birthright of privilege
Of class and condition
And it’s cruel
How every year lived
Is more distance
Between now
And times when pride was simple
As knowing who my enemies were


I don’t have enemies anymore
I’m not sure I have pride
In much either
But I’m trying
To remember
To be grateful
I was born
Unlucky enough to learn
Knowing what’s wrong
Doesn’t make you right


That right is rare
That right is complicated
That right doesn’t always look like
What you’ve come to expect



* * *


DYLAN AMARO-MCINTYRE is a reformed former misanthrope who finds beauty in the details because the big picture terrifies him. He draws words and writes pictures. He also writes poems, sometimes well. A regular performer in the Bay Area, his work can be found in various literary magazines, poetry collections, and on concrete walls up and down the California coast. On Thursday nights he binge eats peanut butter; he recently discovered Macadamia butter and it is ruining his life.



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