Four stories
filled with blood of
centuries’ infamy.
The sword,
...
I dreamed I was a cloud last night.
Saw toy soldiers off to war,
children kicking sand castles.
...
And so, here you are again
in another senseless war,
fodder for a beggar’s fee.
Or did you actually think
...
How can there ever be an end to war?
First we kill all the politicians.
But who would lead the country?
The people.
...
We finished stuffing the animals.
The work went well.
They appear so lifelike
you must look close
...
Too soft blooming flowers,
Settling tea leaves.
We are not attuned to the nuances of nature.
We would need elephant ears to pick up
...
Leroy paints mushroom clouds
On urine smelling walls
Melting fields of tarnished saints
Grown fat deceiving poor.
...
The crows will still call across the Cumberland
Long after I’m gone.
The wind will still wend its way through the tall grasses
And the trees.
...
We cling to the tribe
longing for safety and comfort,
but these are illusions.
We are always alone and
...
You were a gypsy dancing on moonbeams,
smiling like a lantern
swung by a drunken sailor,
a ship storm-tossed and swaying,
...