ACAB
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My Neighbors
The neighbor I want is the youngLatino couple who lived next doorto us on Toulouse Street almost20 years ago. The young man cameout and offered to change my tire.I said I’m not that old, I can do it.He came back with two Modelos and sat with me until I was done, ICE can Fuck right Continue reading
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They Themselves Have No Papers
They do not come in the nightlike the frights of childhood.In broad daylight, in masks in unmarked trucks and SUVs;without insignia, without badgeswithout the necessary legal papers–they themselves have no papers–to seize people off the streetfor being brown while employed,for speaking Spanish in public.It’s as if they launched a pogromagainst the European honey beefor daring Continue reading
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The Price of Humanity
I am increasingly comfortable with the karmic cost of my unbridled hate for MAGA. My father was not a bad man; certainly not an evil man. I wish for everyone MAGA from Trump on down, all of them, what my father wished for the Nazis in Belgium in 1944: in service to the ideals of Continue reading
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Another Police Riot
“The children are always ours, every single one of them, all over the globe; and I am beginning to suspect that whoever is incapable of recognizing this may be incapable of morality.” ― James Baldwin, The NYPD vomited out of armored trucks black as the horses of Lorca’s Guardia Civil: brutality of batons, tear gas Continue reading
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The Surrender of New Orleans
The rode in our Mardi Gras Parades: ICE, La Migra, in an armoured car labeled Police (they are not; they can’t arrest anyone without a judicial warrant), in forest camo and tactical vests throwing beads and bobbing their heads on the 1 and 3 to the adjacent band. They rode through a city that would Continue reading
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Another Police Riot
The NYPD vomitedout of armored trucksblack as the horses of Lorca’sGuardia Civilformed battle linesbrutality of batonspepper spraybreathing dragoonsthey beat punched kickedthe world’s new Gypsieswho renounce boundariesclaim no nation buthumanity. Todayit is Palestine.Tomorrow they will comefor all the unbelieversthe insufficiently patrioticfamilies of solidaritywho still count dollarsanarchist Discipleswho refuse to produce ID Black Terror of churchesviolent riots Continue reading
About Me
Mark Folse is a provincial diarist and aspiring minor poet from New Orleans. His past blogging adventures included the Katina/Federal Flood blog wetbankguide on blogspot.com which David Simon told NY Magazine was one of three blogs that helped inform Treme, and Toulouse Street–Odd Bits of Life in New Orleans, which once outranked the Doobie Brothers on Google Search. His work has appeared in The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, The New Delta Review, Metazen, New Laurel Review, Ellipsis, What We Know: New Orleans as Home, Please Forward, The Maple Leaf Rag IV, and A Howling in the Wires (which he co-edited).
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Well Bottom Blues 