--After Julia De Burgos and Mahmoud Darwish
	Like a charm of goldfinches we will gather. We will gather at the sea
	crest and inside toppled cubicles, drawing upon this horizon of shady
	treaties and chemical weapons depots as if cajoled toward the coast
	by the sheen of a lighthouse. We will gather upon the terraces
	of a crumbling metropolis and along the dunes of Atacama, Mojave,
	Kalahari. We will gather like tectonic tremors echoing in the caterwauls
	of beggars in Fresno and cancer stricken housewives in Beijing, quantize
	this throng of lamentations into a rumba. Shirking the title of rabble,
	we will gather the rubble from the sewer grates and flooded cellars
	of Palestine and Fukushima, of Detroit and La Paz, and we will tether
	the scintilla of plywood and plastic into a hope shrouded oasis. We will
	gather not like mold or like flies, but like tidal waves or skate punks
	darksliding the rim of a jilted pool. We will gather to consider how
	the scent of baked bread can travel effortlessly across epochs when no
	barricades are raised along fairways and boulevards. We will gather
	beckoned by a mammoth hunger. We will share blankets and soup
	with our enemies, and we will remind the unwitting that all are deserving
	of honey and soap. We will carve up this night with candles and canticles.
	The splintering of our tibias will spark the lovelorn to squawk. We will
	gather like pigeons on dead phone lines. We will be a bog of gleaming
	skin skimming through blizzards promulgating a terminal armistice. 
	We will gather in Selma and Port-Au-Prince, in Monrovia and Manila.
	We will break nothing when we leave, bind ourselves like cloth around
	a fevered chest, float across plazas like a warm sponge over a sore shin,
	and become a shameless shore of sin carousing, a flesh tinted mandala
	of static bribing the sky with the promise that we will gather here each
	day until fear is in need of hospice. And we will come bearing incense
	and peach pie. And whenever the wounds of injustice are salted in our
	favelas we will gather again in the squares of Tiananmen and Taksim,
	of Tahrir and Trafalgar, of Bolivar and Union. Like barnacles or fluorescent
	algae, we will gather… we will gather… we will gather…