Enter Different Electronics (II)

By RODNEY A. BROWN 

 

35 Enter inhale. Enter time. Enter inheritance. 
Enter or else. Enter doors with handles,
without handles, manually manipulated. Enter alone 
feelings. Enter tension. Struggle entering 
bitterness enter. Love turning towards lust enter. 
Historic languages enter. Human conditions of
oppression enter. Enter roadside assistance. Enter 
talented man killed too soon. Gravemarker write 
L.O.W. Enter near Dayton settlement but 
specifically at Englewood location. Enter chirping 
bird sounds out of the ceiling again. Enter your 
own music mixing up into the chirps of birds. Enter 
memory again. Enter thought again. Enter more and 
more gunshots. Enter yelling. Enter empathy and
critical engagement.

 

Rodney A. Brown is a poet, writer, choreographer, and interdisciplinary artist whose work draws on he(r) experiences with AIDS, mental illness, and homelessness. He(r) writing has appeared in the Africology: The Journal of Pan African Studies, and their performances on Black lives and mental health have been sponsored at the Society of Dance History Scholars’ Congress on Research in Dance and the United States Conference on AIDS. They taught as a choreographer at the university level and attended the Saint Francis College MFA program in creative writing. Rodney recommends The Boris Lawrence Henson Foundation.

[Purchase Issue 20 here.]

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Enter Different Electronics (II)

Related Posts

May 2026 Poetry Feature: Arielle Hebert, from Bottom Feeders

ARIELLE HEBERT
Home again at the water’s edge, / palms dancing in salt breeze. / I take a too-deep breath / and the air prickles my lungs / like an unfiltered cigarette. / Only the tourists are swimming, / coughing through the algal bloom, / eyes bloodshot and skin burning.

Portrait of Daniel Tobin in front of low trees

The Grave Fox

DANIEL TOBIN
No kindred of an earth, it must stalk alone, / or scavenge what the visitants leave behind. // or bird’s eggs, rabbits, the odd neighborhood / cat wandered over from some nearby home. / Its tail affects the lilt of a semaphore; its pelt // a finish of rust in sunlight.

Supermarketing

LAUREN DELAPENHA
For example, the last time I asked God / to kill me I was among the lemons, remembering // the preacher saying, God is a God who is able / to hunger. I wonder, // aren’t we all here for that fast / communion of a stranger reaching // for the same hydroponic melon?