A Poem For Pete Seeger:
It Is All Etched In Crayolas, January 28,2015
It is the coldest day, it is always the coldest
The praying man does not let violence into his heart if his prayers are truly prayers.
He can be raised in violence.
He can have practiced violence at some point in
La Tumbra Sin Nombre
The Unmarked Grave
The mother of plantains and holy thoughts
It is incorrect in a society to have an exile that
Oregon, I remember you. The way your
trees were unregretful and made imploring love
Think about it...The more ugly the world treats one group of people
the more beautiful they become.
Consider how the human creature had walked the earth for all these
From Georgia those blues came walking, wearing worn shoes.
Broken-hearted, migrant from the orphanages,
What Rusts In The Rain
(For The Memory Of William S. Burroughs & Typewriters)
It is Lawrence, Kansas and the sky opens
I must tell you in life there, has
been nothing better than honey in warm
milk with consistent plain, bread warm like
unto human skin - except for peace.