Alan Chazaro

POETRY BY ALAN CHAZARO


WHAT SCIENTISTS KNOW ABOUT BLACK HOLES

  • A Quick Death

And I quote: gravity will drag you

toward the singularity at the speed of light

and ultimately spaghettify you.

  • You Need to Travel at Lightspeed to Escape an Event Horizon

Prior to your terrible ending,

would a part of you want to celebrate?

Would a part of you want to smile?

 

  • Astronomers Estimate that Our Galaxy Harbors Approximately 100 Million Black Holes

And what if I told you that the spiral of your being

could pull me into an unknown? You can take this

literally or you can take it as metaphor.

 

  • Like Planets and Stars, There Are Both Big and Small Black Holes. You Will Die Regardless of What Size of Black Hole You Enter

This conveniently loops me back to #1: if you fuck

around hard enough you might just

never come back. Lesson being

there is a limit to this body, to this skin,

to this politic. Keep your hands where I can see them

in America.

 

  • How to Trap Light

Hold your hands around me. The way you would

while choking. The way you would the loss

of yourself. Let go when you’ve tasted the salt

of adrenaline leave your fingers.

 

  • When You Only See Darkness, Then You’ll Know You’re Inside a Black Hole

Because the darker the center the deeper

the truth reminds me of when Pac said

the darker the berry the sweeter

the juice. Because all along we’ve been thinking

Pac’s been in Cuba but maybe he got lost

inside the blackest hole in America.

 

  • Physics Break Down

Not break down like hip hop but break down

like hoopty, like the first car I ever bought

was a black Honda with tinted windows and

black rims. Like the time I was pulled over

in New Orleans for making a legal right

turn. Like how the police made me step

out of my car and exit myself. Like their hands feeling

everything about me except how I was feeling.

Like when back up arrived with more undercover

threats, more cold

accusations. Like how I was just

a boy driving my car in a broke down neighborhood

on a Tuesday afternoon. Like how they said they’d take me

to jail that day. Like how they couldn’t because I wasn’t

in the wrong. Like how they made me turn

against myself. Like the way it must feel for those

who must live in the darkest shades of their skin

every hour.

 

  • You Might Never Come Back

You don’t need an astrophysicist to tell you

when you might not come back.

There is no mathematics for the loss of a life.

These days things haven’t been adding up. These

days I’ve been feeling subtracted and divided.

I’ve curled into a sunken space

but I am relearning how light

explodes brightest in the dark.

 

Alan Chazaro is a high school teacher at the Oakland School for the Arts. His first poetry collection, This Is Not a Frank Ocean Cover Album, was winner of the 2018 Black River Chapbook Competition, available at https://blacklawrencepress.com/books/this-is-not-a-frank-ocean-cover-album/. He will be traveling around, living in, and writing from South America and Mexico for the next year, so hit him up on Twitter @alan_chazaro.