consider this: in my mid-twenties i want to spit in the face of time since yesterday when walking around the corner to buy salted crisps i followed the turn of a bird feather & stepped on a crack oh god it’s october & i have nothing to show for it but so what six weeks ago as an exercise in lyric i put my hands on my chest on a zoom call & cried today i put my hands on my chest & cried again so what’s the point of lineating time i demand more from it hear that amman you sinkhole of invasive trees enough historicizing i want streets that i can walk through safely to chat shit about [redacted] freely with no redacting actually i want to never redact again i want to write this poem the way it needs me to & not go to [redacted] i want no one to ever go to [redacted] consider this: to show my face with no consequence no surveillance just a safe path between the trees on the side of the street open public space & an end to bureaucracy an end to all militaries & an end to israel i want to go from here to beirut on foot & back to baghdad i want to spit on [redacted]’s grave & brag about it on instagram no no i want the death of instagram & to take nice long walks along the dead sea & cross to the other side i want global liberation no poison in the jordan river & everywhere i want to wake up next to my loves everywhere & be a sonnet with feet & at the turn of my life i hope to die quickly & in their arms having witnessed the ambit of love & collective action each of us unredacted ampersands free to walk the streets