A poem by Amy Miller Dear friends, political intimates, beloved chosen family. We are. Physically distant. Struggling. Together attempting smart, fresh, grounded, moment-seizing – getting shit done in new and unsettling ways. And we may also struggle on our intimate fronts and battle with our own minds, hearts, bodies. And/or. With those with whom we find ourselves. Ok, I can own it. I am struggling. I forget. Do I watch pandemic news today? Or hide away? Do I work, walk, browse boys online with my queer self, or make lunch for my kid? Is it time for one more phone
A poem by Huggy Bear The rich just keep getting richer and the poor just keep getting poorer.Trust me that’s more than just a clicheWhether it be food, clothing, shelter, justice system or healthcareYour lot in life depends on what you can afford to payLet’s not even mention the trials and tribulations of beingA person of color, woman, immigrant, transgender or gayThey’re subjugating the people and destroying the planet for their profitsBut that’s always been the Capitalist way There was never any money in your salvation and your liberationAll the profits have always been in our oppression.They’ve been trying to school
