Houses for Homies project (now also in book form), 2012
Home Sweet Home tattoo, age 18, 2009 (placed below tattoo of my child home address, 1861)
"Home is Where You Make It" project, 2012, installation
Artist Robert DuGrenier has been making glass shells for Hermit Crabs to live in for more than 15 years.
Dad’s front porch.
Home, by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros
“Home, let me come home, home is wherever I’m with you
Our home, yes I’m home, home is when I’m alone with you”
Homesick, by The Vines
"I left my home
I left my home yeah, yeah
Where I should go
Where I should go yeah, yeah
Nothin’s gonna save you
Nothin’s gonna save you out there”
By Li-Young Lee
People have been trying to kill me since I was born,
a man tells his son, trying to explain
the wisdom of learning a second tongue.
It’s an old story from the previous century
about my father and me.
The same story from yesterday morning
about me and my son.
It’s called “Survival Strategies
and the Melancholy of Racial Assimilation.”
It’s called “Psychological Paradigms of Displaced Persons,”
called “The Child Who’d Rather Play than Study.”
Practice until you feel
the language inside you, says the man.
But what does he know about inside and outside,
my father who was spared nothing
in spite of the languages he used?
And me, confused about the flesh and the soul,
who asked once into a telephone,
Am I inside you?
You’re always inside me, a woman answered,
at peace with the body’s finitude,
at peace with the soul’s disregard
of space and time.
Am I inside you? I asked once
lying between her legs, confused
about the body and the heart.
If you don’t believe you’re inside me, you’re not,
she answered, at peace with the body’s greed,
at peace with the heart’s bewilderment.
It’s an ancient story from yesterday evening
called “Patterns of Love in People of Diaspora,”
called “Loss of the Homeplace
and the Defilement of the Beloved,”
called, “I Want to Sing but I Don’t Know Any Songs.”