….as I stake out
my claim in Indian
territory
I wonder
why he refused to
roll that silver tongue
around “hindoo”
and why I too
take pride
in that
mispronunciation
remembering Ma’s
constant correction –
it is not “pro-noun-ciate”!
I wonder if
that hidden pronoun
when i enunciate
the continuous
tense
tends to
pull apart
the warring partners
in this
identity pretense
you know –
the one where
you tell me that
you discovered me
in america
half a world away
from india
and the one where
you tell me then
that I should
feel honored
for doing brownface
in whitemask
redskinning and brave-ing
and seminole-ing and squaw-ing
to your marching
bands
marching
constantly
to your
mis/pronoun/ciating
and yet…..

…is homecoming
then
always a lost cause
cause coming home
means im already there
or is it merely
an ungrammatical
oxi-moronic
greek tragedy
confusing
bringing
with taking
going
with leaving
reaching
with arriving
and
coming
with climaxing
and yet….

http://www.newyorker.com/news/john-cassidy/oxi-a-historic-greek-vote-against-austerity

…jetting back
and lagging
again
“no really”
i tell him
at immigration
“i am a professor
even though
i went to
indonesia”
and
“right –
i did
go to bali
even though
we have beaches
in goa”
and
“yeah
even though
a month with
family is bordering
on insanity
it still doesn’t
constitute
a terrorist
anomaly”
and
“ok ok
teacher of
social workers
is too vague
a profession
so
how ’bout
i teach ferguson?”
confirming finally
that
i am still alien
he
stops looking
for a visa
and
gives me that
ET finger –
“(welcome) hoooome”
and yet….

….so wait!
before you ejaculate
your rainbow
all over my face/book
can i now
attend parent-teacher
as the third care taker
can i teach her
about how the village
raises him
but also fucks
each other
can i demand to
take him off life support
because he asked me to
even if he didn’t
confide this to her
can i deliver the eulogy
because she used to tell me
that while their tongue
tastes like honey
mine remembers her better
so can you blame me
if i go back
to my closet now
your shiny happy sunny
is freezing
my rainbow
and all that remains
is just/ice
and yet…..

….do you
also
really mean
you
love (to) win
and you
love (to) triumph
and you
love (to) conquer all
and yeah
iknowiknowiknow
i shouldn’t
be so mean
on such a
meaningful
day
and i’ll stop
when justice
kennedy
gives me
a tax break
for my
multigendered
multiorgasmic
multifilial
fucking
and yet….

…..love RULES!
you shout
but do you
mean
LOVE rules?
and yet…

…I am stuck still
in yogic contortions
this
foot-in-mouth
pose
makes me
swallow
when i want to spit
so wait for Mo
after my
morning
sh…
errr
ablutions
and yet….

http://indiatoday.intoday.in/education/story/central-school-students-to-now-study-yoga-as-a-subject/1/446418.html

….i don’t need to
‪#‎askrachel‬
I’m Indian –
I do transracial
like you
color multicultural
remember-
Muller’s aria
lubricated
(even after being retracted)
the wet dreams
of Brahmin
purity
hitting
its truest note
when Indian reciprocity
kicked the theory
right back to Hitler’s
Germany
a transracist 69
that was centuries
in the sucking
so
I don’t need to learn
the Charleston hop
or the
Jindal-Haley
grope
my technique
is perfected everyday
in my asanas
flushing out impurity
with every
surya namaskar
convoluting
limbs
into pretzel logic
that cements
my ar(y)o-brahmo
ascendancy
and yet…..

http://news.yahoo.com/india-set-celebrate-modis-yoga-day-010413685.html

….in death
that most literal
of endings
you have resurrected
the metaphor –
a revolution
on t-shirts and tv
and a banner
for every
banned resistance
so
i raise a fist
with you
to the fight against
the literati
against the literal truth
and the whole truth
and against the notion
that there aint nothin’
but the truth
against truths
that resurrect
to sellout
those who insurrect
against true lies
and true facts
and true homes
and true hacks
against simple truths
and true simplifications
against transcendental meditations
and transracial obfuscations
against true colors
and colors that run true
against the men in blue
and their true blues
against all
who say i do
and believe
it’s true
hahahahaha
i realize now
why you called this fun
let’s
cock that gun
and
kill true dead
and yet……

…i remember
you leaning in
the fires in your eyes
so cold
I still feel
the icy whip
20 years later
“we here
are sons and mothers
and sisters and daughters
of sex workers
why are you here
‘Doctor’?”
Malcolm couldn’t
have set the trap better
and
while
the years since
convinced
us to work together
while
life and the struggle
brought out
complications
that you couldn’t quite
conquer
while
the glass ceiling
became the
concrete despair
you reached out for
that whispered
challenge
20 years ago
kept me
trying
to frame an answer
every day I’ve worked here
so farewell,
if not my friend,
then certainly
a part
of my
conscience
and yet….