We’re printing whistles.
I’m printing wings—
not for me this time.

We’re printing instructions
on how to resist peacefully &
exercise our rights.

We’re printing ice blankets
to cover our streets
they are invading.

I’m not printing instructions
on how to walk like a penguin—
if you know, you know.

We’re not printing
or saying
his name out loud.

I’m printing courage
with biodegradable nuisance
algae and recycled dreams

of snow sculptures
that dance and make noise
all night long.

I’m printing a waddle of penguins
and a prickle of hedgehogs—
because I can.

We’re printing a Midwestern city
of immigrants
to love.

I’m printing 3D love
letters to all of you—
you know who you are.

We’re printing the pink light at dawn,
amber spilling over the city
at civil (disobedience) twilight.

They’re printing NOTHING
because they don’t know how—
so utterly untrained.

We’re printing a new beginning
with wood chips and spit
from each of our 10,000

lakes and

that big ole’ river

of the falls.