DeeSoul Carson
DeeSoul Carson (He/They) is a poet and educator from San Diego, CA, currently residing in Brooklyn, NY. His work is featured or forthcoming in Voicemail Poems, Muzzle Magazine, Hayden’s Ferry Review, The Offing, & elsewhere. A Stanford University alum, DeeSoul has received fellowships from The Watering Hole and New York University, where he received his MFA. He believes in a Free Palestine in our lifetime. Find more of his work at deesoulpoetry.com.
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Moving to New York
After Hurricane Ida
Current mental state: I heard the opening theme from Super Mario Galaxy
& cried. Never stopped. Current mental state: A sewage-stalled subway car.
Current mental state: The big-ass raccoon that spooked me last night
climbing up the little rusted fire escape. You know, it’s lucky I didn’t get
the basement apartment I wanted. I’m thinking I just got here
& already a hurricane tryna wash me away. I’m thinking
the rest of my life finna be deciding which natural disaster
I’d be fine ending me. I’m thinking: if God promised never
to flood the world again, he’s got a funny way of showing it.
I’m no God, but I’m thinking now is an excellent time
for the rapture. Shit’s getting out of hand. I’m thinking
there’s a reality he must love more, every suffering undone:
garbage bags floating back up
the asphalt riverbed, riverbed
drying back up into a street,
street unweathering the storm,
storm forgetting our coasts,
coasts without dead to be named.
I’m thinking we’ll be lucky if, years from now, there’s life to inherit
what rubble & filth we have left them. I’m thinking, with our luck,
someone will come looking for us and find nothing
but coffee shop plastics & chewing gum.
I’m thinking: if the power goes out & my choices
are a prayer or a flashlight, Lord forgive me,
I’m looking for batteries every time.
Moving to New York
After Hurricane Ida
Current mental state: I heard the opening theme from Super Mario Galaxy
& cried. Never stopped. Current mental state: A sewage-stalled subway car.
Current mental state: The big-ass raccoon that spooked me last night
climbing up the little rusted fire escape. You know, it’s lucky I didn’t get
the basement apartment I wanted. I’m thinking I just got here
& already a hurricane tryna wash me away. I’m thinking
the rest of my life finna be deciding which natural disaster
I’d be fine ending me. I’m thinking: if God promised never
to flood the world again, he’s got a funny way of showing it.
I’m no God, but I’m thinking now is an excellent time
for the rapture. Shit’s getting out of hand. I’m thinking
there’s a reality he must love more, every suffering undone:
garbage bags floating back up
the asphalt riverbed, riverbed
drying back up into a street,
street unweathering the storm,
storm forgetting our coasts,
coasts without dead to be named.
I’m thinking we’ll be lucky if, years from now, there’s life to inherit
what rubble & filth we have left them. I’m thinking, with our luck,
someone will come looking for us and find nothing
but coffee shop plastics & chewing gum.
I’m thinking: if the power goes out & my choices
are a prayer or a flashlight, Lord forgive me,
I’m looking for batteries every time.
Note: these poems are best viewed on desktop or horizontally on mobile.
Moving to New York
After Hurricane Ida
Current mental state: I heard the opening theme from Super Mario Galaxy
& cried. Never stopped. Current mental state: A sewage-stalled subway car.
Current mental state: The big-ass raccoon that spooked me last night
climbing up the little rusted fire escape. You know, it’s lucky I didn’t get
the basement apartment I wanted. I’m thinking I just got here
& already a hurricane tryna wash me away. I’m thinking
the rest of my life finna be deciding which natural disaster
I’d be fine ending me. I’m thinking: if God promised never
to flood the world again, he’s got a funny way of showing it.
I’m no God, but I’m thinking now is an excellent time
for the rapture. Shit’s getting out of hand. I’m thinking
there’s a reality he must love more, every suffering undone:
garbage bags floating back up
the asphalt riverbed, riverbed
drying back up into a street,
street unweathering the storm,
storm forgetting our coasts,
coasts without dead to be named.
I’m thinking we’ll be lucky if, years from now, there’s life to inherit
what rubble & filth we have left them. I’m thinking, with our luck,
someone will come looking for us and find nothing
but coffee shop plastics & chewing gum.
I’m thinking: if the power goes out & my choices
are a prayer or a flashlight, Lord forgive me,
I’m looking for batteries every time.
bloodline
i have spent my lifetime tracing
my granny’s end-of-august apple harvest,
old indigo carpet faded from years of
westerns running eternal on the television,
my father laughing at his own jokes,
head tilted towards my inheritance:
a knowing none of us can name,
legacy unhaunted by ghosts we’ve made of
snapple & porches.
when the world ends
between what my mother believes
beneath each untangled clot,
let there be something to redeem us.
a dawn with no night to return from.
a field of fireflies & dust.
what will be left of me when I’ve gone:
chessboard kitchen alive with our
communion,
our commotion in the living room over
grandpa’s
sleep-talking to no one in particular,
his squinted eye & sprinkler sputter guffaw.
my aunt, stone-stoic, lips pursed with
a joke that catches you like a lost cousin.
a world running low on grace, a shortage
of asphalt & sweet tea.
i hope god leaves these for the survivors.
what we agree is real:
hydrangeas. persimmons.
a dirge born of dirt & teeth.
DeeSoul Carson
DeeSoul Carson (He/They) is a poet and educator from San Diego, CA, currently residing in Brooklyn, NY. His work is featured or forthcoming in Voicemail Poems, Muzzle Magazine, Hayden’s Ferry Review, The Offing, & elsewhere. A Stanford University alum, DeeSoul has received fellowships from The Watering Hole and New York University, where he received his MFA. He believes in a Free Palestine in our lifetime. Find more of his work at deesoulpoetry.com.
DeeSoul Carson