Hope, she says in quotes, is a revolution of values,
one with the arcing bend of this beloved universe,
initiated like a communal intervention:
some 12-step plan against the monkey-backed fuel-fed
addictions of consumer culture, this sweet and sore planet’s woe.
Let others simply live

Hope is resistance, a history of conscience told
against the saving narratives or emergency and disaster management
where do we place our learning when they dismantle education?

Imagine: making hay of industrial demise;
Start with dirt, beneath the nails of a calloused common hand.
Ask what time? What place?

As a discipline to practice,
hope is akin to marriage or friendship
honored unbreakably in the struggle’s long haul:
The political, beloved,
is personal, dear comrade.

Find it in economy as neighborhood
a bartered thing that keeps coming round
this uncommodifiable but still recirculatable gift
passed like eggs, tomatoes, or tamales down the block
hosed like water, one house to the next
radioed like pirate news, ciphers on the wind

Hope is an undocumented Spirit.
She crosses the borderland of empires’ collapse
to another world possible, buried beneath extraction, expulsion
a new city happening, the art of the found, the noticed, the embraced
this cultural economy of gift
our human contradictions notwithstanding
the very dialectics of grace…