HOW TO BE PUBLIC WHEN YOU CANNOT MOVE

raising a fist from bed, sharing breath with the lungs of the park

responding to speeches heard from a distance, rallies & protests i haunt as glitch

can you hear my broadcast back?

maybe when we read together, crossing time & space & borders,

your interventions can hold a space for me at the picket line. 

while i hold space for you here, in my room, on my bench

a collective of ghosts, flickering in & out of visibility, hydra

an inscribed memory of care, burned into the concrete

publishing with many hands

(text from an upcoming performance art piece about crip rage, study, and being bedridden in the streets---inspired by the work of Johanna Hedva--- in Herbert von King Park. expect it when you see it)